


Methods of Research

by Bethofbells



Category: The Mindy Project
Genre: College AU, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:07:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 74,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethofbells/pseuds/Bethofbells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College AU. Mindy and Danny meet at a frat party and consider the merits of book learning versus real world application. (Also, maybe, ok definitely, there's smut)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, it started off as a kink meme prompt, then it became decidedly not a kink, but rather my first attempt at an AU of any kind. Anywho, here's a college AU one shot. Comments and reviews are appreciated.**

The bass thumped in her ears, the reverberations chasing through her body as she followed close behind Maggie. She yelled over the music. "Who invited us anyway? Are we going to get thrown out?"

Maggie shook her head. "Mindy, stop. No one cares. This is a red solo cup party."

"What?"

Maggie nodded toward a group of bros gathered beside a keg, red solo cups in hand. "This isn't a housewarming party in Concord. There were no invites. No one gives a rat's ass who is here, as long as the music and moderately priced beer is flowing into cheap plastic cups." Leaning in close, she yelled into Mindy's ear. "Which is why we pre-gamed at the dorm. Smart girls do NOT partake in anything _anyone_ hands them in a red solo cup."

Mindy's reply was cut short when Anders, an overly enthusiastic friend of Maggie's, cut in between them. The extraordinarily tall nordic god threw his arms around her friend, lifting her up in the air. "Mags!"

Mindy pretended to be interested as Maggie introduced her to her friend, some guy she played intramural co-ed rugby with. Mindy wasn't interested in him, and clearly he wasn't interested in her, his eyes traveling to the deep vee of Maggie's blouse. Mindy excused herself, barely eliciting a glance from Maggie.

Her first attempt at being a social butterfly was coming along pathetically. This party was loud and hot, and she could already feel the thin material of her silk top sticking to her skin. Nope, this was not pleasant.

She picked her way through the overly crowded living room, guys in Ed Hardy regalia bumping into her without apology as they bobbed up and down to the club-like beat. Fanning herself, she made her way into the kitchen, hoping to find a back door to escape the pressing heat.

The pregame shots Maggie had made her take were starting to kick in, a tingling sensation in her lips sending her finger unconsciously to trace them. Surprisingly, the kitchen was empty, save one strange party-goer's well formed ass sticking out of the fridge. Who came to a party to rifle through the host's fridge? It sounded like something she would do, so she approached said ass's owner.

"Hey." The greeting came out at a louder volume than she'd intended, the alcohol beginning to course through her veins dampening her verbal controls.

He spun around, surprised, a jar of mayo in one hand, pickles in the other, a bag of deli meat dangling between his teeth. She smiled, an involuntary little laugh bursting out before she could cover her mouth. He was attractive, the dark waves on his head parted in a decidedly old fashioned style. A little short, but Mindy didn't really care, her 5'1" frame not presenting much of an issue. She liked the surprised look on his face, deep brown eyes wide, eyebrows arched up. God, what man had eyelashes that long? She reached forward to take the lunchmeat, hoping to free him for conversation. "Making a sandwich?"

He didn't oblige her, merely nodding as he moved toward the counter, setting down the various jars in his hands before reaching for the loaf of bread. Strong silent type, check. She took his closed mouth response as an invitation to talk more. "Isn't hiding in the kitchen and making sandwiches at a rave kind of anti-social?"

He paused, the knife spreading mayo across one of the slices of bread rose as he used it to point at her. "One: you're also in the kitchen, and two: this is _not_ a rave. Have you ever been to a rave?" He snatched the lunchmeat from her hands.

Affronted, she raised both of her hands in protest, a look of outrage spreading across her face. "How dare you question my various college experiences? I have been to well over a dozen raves, and this has some definite rave-like qualities." The lies slipped easily off her tongue.

He turned his attention back to the culinary task at hand, ignoring the indignant expression on her face. "Well, in all your _vast_ experience, I'm sure you've encountered a lame frat house kegger before, and even maybe a designated driver or two that had nothing better to do than make sub par sandwiches while waiting for his idiot friends."

He looked at her inquiringly, one eyebrow raised as he gave her a once over. "Are you even old enough to be drinking?" A hint of humor infused his question, his eyes darting up and down her body as if to gauge her approximate age.

She sputtered, her mouth bobbing open and shut, whatever lying ability she'd had before disappearing. "I mean.. in Canada, and like, other European, and therefore more forward thinking countries, yes, totally legal."

"So, no."

"No."

He smiled, satisfied with his assumption. Taking a large bite out of his newly made sandwich, he pinned her with his gaze and said. "Then I'm right." He spoke with his mouth full. It should have been disgusting, but Mindy couldn't take her eyes off of him, the little fleck of mayo on his bottom lip. She traced her own with her tongue while she stared at him.

"You're probably some high school chick crashing, what are you sixteen?" His words dripped with condescension as one of his well manicured thumbs darted up to wipe away the errant condiment. She nearly whimpered when he popped the digit into his mouth.

Mentally chiding herself, she shook her head, eyes brightening a bit. Stepping forward to rest a hand on his arm, she squeezed slightly at the more than firm bicep underneath the soft cotton. "Thank you."

He stared at her in confusion. "It wasn't a compliment."

He removed her hand from his arm, but she turned her palm toward his and squeezed his fingers before he had a chance to release it. "Sure it wasn't a compliment _now_ , but I'm looking at the long game." She smiled, taking another step toward him. "I'm Mindy."

Surprised by her touch, the hand holding his hastily made sandwich returned the food to its plate before turning his whole body toward her. "What are you doing?"

"The proper response to a hot girl introducing herself is to politely introduce yourself right back."

"Stop playing around. Are you a student here?" His voice was husky, and the sudden shift in tone threw Mindy off balance, her mouth snapping shut as the man's long graceful fingers encircled her wrist possessively, dragging her into his body.

Feeling a little bit of fire flame in her belly once again, she looked at him devilishly. "Are _you_?"

"What?"

"For all I know you could be someone's creepy dad."

"What! I'm 23!"

She giggled, the outraged expression on his face almost comical, his mouth half open in anger, the confused expression in his eyes only tipping her past the point of no return. She began laughing in earnest, gasping even. The small amount of alcohol she'd had released her from her normal inhibitions just enough to really let go. "Still kind of old, to be a student anyway."

He would have released her immediately, stormed out of the tiny kitchen in search of his sane friends, but there was something about the absolute glee in her voice as tears of mirth streamed down her face that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I had to take some time off. Family stuff." His answer spilled out quickly, and surprised him. Why the hell was he sharing this with her? It was none of her business.

The mirth instantly wiped from her face, her eyes growing big, some misplaced awe in her depths. Her hand crept up, resting gently in his face. "You noble creature."

He pulled back slightly, a full blown smile making itself known as he snorted out laughter. "Alright, alright, seriously though. How old are you? I'm not throwing away a promising career as a doctor for a bad decision at a crappy frat party."

Her mouth dropped open once again, reminding him of a gasping goldfish, the shock on her face more amusing even than the laughter earlier. "Exsqueeeeeeze me! You're pretty damn sure of yourself, Mr… Whatever your name is."

"Danny."

"Mr. Danny thinks he's gonna be a doctor and get laid tonight…" She snapped her mouth shut, feeling like a moron.

He leered at her. The smile on his face sent a shiver down her spine, something magnified by the feel of his hands as he slid his arms behind her, drawing her up close. She felt the tips of his fingers brush along the seam of her jean skirt, slipping effortlessly into the back pockets to cup her ass.

He squeezed firmly, drawing her hips in close to his as he dipped down close to her face. Her breath caught as she anticipated the feel of his lips on hers, but he drew back unexpectedly, the warmth of his hands leaving her body as he waved her I.D. triumphantly in front of her face.

He squinted slightly, trying to make out the birthday. "Well, Ms. Lahiri, looks like everything checks out." He continued to look at her smugly. "I hear there are rooms upstairs for this kind of thing."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Smug bastard. If you didn't have a dancer's body and an ass that won't quit, I would smack the hell out of you." She hooked her fingers into his belt loops, pulling him close, notching herself between his legs. "It's probably a good idea for me to lose my frat-party-virginity to some jerk I'll never see again."

Before he had the chance to respond, Mindy lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Danny's neck and pulling his face to hers, kissing him. He didn't immediately respond, breathing in the scent of her floral perfume and some other faintly sweet aroma (baked goods?). She attacked his mouth, drawing his bottom lip in hungrily while her hands clutched at him.

She tasted like cinnamon, the flavor lingering on his tongue as she withdrew, her eyes glowing with satisfaction. "Upstairs?" Her voice was raspy and deep, contrasting greatly with the high pitched indignation from before. It sent a tendril of desire coiling in the pit of his stomach.

He nodded, and without a word dragged her out of the kitchen, food lying long forgotten on the messy counter.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He had to thank Andrew for dragging him here, for ignoring his grouchy protests. Before he'd heard the high pitched voice behind him, he'd been compiling a list of reasons to leave, ready to drag his wasted roommate back home and crawl under his down comforter.

But now he had this little dynamo climbing all over him, tugging at the buttons of his shirt as her pastry flavored mouth left hot kisses along his jaw. Leaving was the last thing on his mind.

His hands were everywhere, unable to decide on any one part of her anatomy to explore as he dragged her up the narrow stairway, coming back to her ass again and again. They finally reached the top and she clumsily pushed him back against the nearest doorway, squeaking as the thing flew open, spilling them both on the floor.

He laughed, trying to regain the breath she'd knocked out of him, his chest rumbling beneath her as she tried to wriggle off him. His belt buckle pressed into her stomach as he bracketed her waist with his hands and held her in place, taking a minute to breathe in the scent of her hair as it brushed across his face. The room was blanketed in darkness, the faint glow from the hallway the only hint of light to illuminate their surroundings. The desire coiling in him began to thrum in its urgency, and the laughter died away.

"Stay." It was a low command issued through clenched teeth, his fingers squeezing slightly to punctuate it.

"But the bed?"

"It's a twin bed in the upstairs bedroom of a frat house, unless you want an antibiotic resistant strain of chlamydia, you'll stay away from any and all beds like that." He smirked. "For future reference anyway."

Nodding, she sat up, the hem of her skirt riding even further up her thighs as she straddled him. His fingertips brushed the newly exposed skin. "I've always wanted to be on top. Smiling down at him, a happy thought entered her head. "It's statistically the best position for female orgasm. Or.. that's what the books say."

Danny was grateful for the dark. Her unbridled enthusiasm and lack of a verbal filter were making him blush. A reaction that would have totally undermined the cavalier manner he'd adopted. Still, he couldn't keep the genuine interest out of his voice. "You've read books about it?"

She nodded again. The motion traveling down her body resulted in a more than pleasant sensation on his lap. His fingers slipped under the edge of her skirt and he felt goosebumps temporarily chase along her skin. "What can I say. I'm well read. Have you?"

He slowly shook his head in denial as his fingers traveled between the vee of her thighs. "No… no… my knowledge of the female orgasm is based entirely in the realm of physical experience and patient observation." Cockiness crept back into his voice. "Although I could probably _write_ a book at this point."

"Prove it." There it was again, that low primal sound issuing from her vocal chords that sent the blood rushing in his ears.

He brushed his knuckles against the silk of her panties, the light friction against the damp material making her arch involuntarily toward him, her lips descending on his hungrily. She rolled her hips, seeking out his touch, grinding down on him eagerly. He took it as an invitation to proceed and tugged the offending barrier aside.

She gasped against his lips as he slipped the pads of his fingers determinedly against the apex of pleasure, massaging the sensitive bundle of nerves expertly before slipping inside. She released his lips with an audible smack, a gasp turning into an all out moan before it morphed into a question. "Mmmmmy god, what are you doing?"

His motions stilled, the faint tremors of her pleasure still pulsing softly against his fingers. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She was young, for sure, but her brash pursuit had lead him to believe she was at least experienced. Now he questioned that. "Have you never…?"

"What? Of course!" She closed her eyes and leaned back. "So help me, if you stop now, I'll write the most scathing review of your upcoming book." Her indignation was undermined by an obvious shortness of breath.

Smiling, he reached forward with his free hand, tugging her down to him once again. He wished there was more light. He wanted to see her face as she completely lost control, a half formed thought in the back of his mind that it could possibly be the first time for her. He settled for kissing her again, tracing the shape of her mouth with the tip of his tongue as his other hand began to work.

She clutched at his shirt, suddenly hating the barrier between them, aching to feel his skin flush against hers as she began to fly apart. The first wave hit her like a Mack truck, bowling her over unexpectedly. Her mouth opened against his, forgetting all attempts at kissing as the muscles in her abdomen clenched. She bit down on her bottom lip as he eked a low moan out of her.

Danny continued, recognizing her reaction as the beginning of something larger. This time he curled his fingers in a much practiced move, pressing firmly against her g-spot. "What is..? Oh." She hummed involuntarily, words escaping her. Her hips rolled against him, encouraging his exploration as a second wave crashed into her, searching desperately for some kind of anchor. She found his hand on her breast, squeezing gently as she rocked into him. She grasped at it, holding it tight to her body as she peaked for the last time. "I think... I think-" She gasped an inelegant curse against his lips. "Oh, fuck!"

He laughed, pleased with himself beyond belief at the feel of her collapsing against him, the inescapable contractions continuing to flutter against his fingers. "Nah… we haven't done that yet." He withdrew, relishing the feel of her full weight relaxed atop him, her face nestled in the hollow of his neck.

His hands traveled absentmindedly across her back, slipping unobtrusively underneath her blouse in search of smooth skin. He didn't know if she'd be up for anything more even if he was painfully aroused.

His unspoken question was answered almost immediately as he felt her wiggling again, sitting up and tugging at his belt. She cursed softly as she struggled with the prongs. "We need to fix that. Right now."

He was ready, of course. He'd been in a state since he'd slid his hands around the globe of her ass, since he'd tasted the cinnamon on her tongue. Sighing, he regretfully pushed her hands away. He'd known all along how tonight would end. "I don't have a condom, Lahiri." He ached as she pulled away in disappointment. "And I'm guessing from the look on your face, you don't have one either."

"No." She rolled off of him, sighing hugely as she settled on the floor. "I mean, I suppose I could…" She made an awkward clicking noise with her tongue. "You know. Return the favor. If you want."

Before he could answer there was a racket in the hall, a herd of elephants ascending the stairway. "Danny, yo, Danny! Where the hell are yoooooouuuu?" The door was only slightly ajar, but the drunken enthusiasm of Danny's search party had it banging against the wall in a matter of seconds. "Little D!"

Danny grabbed the nearest object, hurling it at his friend. "Get out of here man. I'll be down in a second."

Andrew's eyes darted from Danny to Mindy half a dozen times, his alcohol fogged brain taking longer than usual to connect the dots. "Oh, yeah, sure…. don't be too long. We have to get back, you have that thing… I have that other thing… things..." He stumbled away, mumbling to himself.

Danny was on his feet almost immediately, reaching down to pull Mindy up. He overestimated the strength required to get her off the floor, and ended up pulling her roughly against his chest. He held her there only for a second before releasing her. "Sorry."

She stared at him, her eyes still shiny from her recent release. "Don't be. _Little_ D." She smirked at the nickname. "I guess I'll never know where _that_ came from, eh?"

This time there was no darkness to hide his blush, and he could only stare at her as the blood rushed to his ears. "No, no, no. That's not.."

"Relax." She leaned forward to lay an affection peck on his cheek. "I was close enough to know, that particular D is not so little."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mindy walked on clouds all the way home, ignoring Maggie drunkenly catcalling light posts as they walked back to their dorm. She was inordinately proud of herself, the smile on her face making her cheeks sore. Her first attempt at a casual liaison had been a screaming success. She'd had probably the most mind-blowing orgasm of her life… ok, so maybe the first orgasm of her life. She had thought she'd reached that climactic peak before, during the pathetically few sessions she'd had with her high school boyfriend, and sure she'd felt little waves of pleasure, but tonight with Danny had been different. She couldn't describe the inarticulate sounds that had involuntarily leapt from her mouth, or the full body muscle spasms that had swept over her. So yeah, most definitely the first.

_And_ she could now add 'hooking up' to the list of collegiate things she'd done since the first week of the fall semester had started. So far it was a short list, but she had plans. Grand plans that would probably have been accomplished much sooner if she didn't have a damn Saturday morning class. Who the fuck did that? Oh, right, overachieving pre-med students, that's who.

Still, even the impending misery of waking up in three hours to go to class couldn't bring her down. She felt like she might fly on this particular high for days.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She sashayed into the classroom with almost a full minute to spare, a steaming coffee clutched in one hand. So, she hadn't had time to wipe the smudged party mascara away from her eyes, or run a comb through her hair (but it looked strategically tousled, so she let that one go).

She wasn't all that self conscious about the baggy sweats tucked into her uggs either. This was an eight a.m. Saturday class. It was probably stuffed to the gills with nerds intent on tucking away little tidbits of organic chemistry. A bunch of upper level classman who wouldn't spare her a glance. She was confident.

She settled into a seat at the bottom of the pit as usual, not one to shy away from professor's questions. She even had time to open her notebook to a fresh page, and line up her various pens before the professor shuffled in.

He was a rather gaunt man, his glasses sliding down the tip of his nose as he ran a hand through a mass of wiry gray hair. He looked a bit scattered as he shuffled through his papers, glancing at his watch. Surveying the students before him, he pasted on a halfhearted smile. "Welcome to Organic Chemistry. I'm Professor Garibaldi. God knows why you signed up for a Saturday morning class, but misery loves company, so I'm glad you're here."

He tapped his pen on the lector in front of him, glancing at his watch again. "At this point I would normally have my TA hand out the syllabi, but he seems to be running late, which isn't like him at all." There was a note of worry in Garibaldi's voice as he glanced toward the door.

Mindy heard shuffling, and the slamming of a heavy door behind her and didn't bother to look up. She began to title her notes.

"Ah. Mr. Castellano, I'm so glad you've decided to join us."

"I'm so sorry. Won't happen again."

Mindy's head snapped up, the familiarly accented voice drawing her undivided attention. He had his back to her, but there was no mistaking the ass before her. It was certainly the same one she'd seen peeking out of the fridge the night before. Shit.

He reached down into his messenger bag and drew out a file folder, handing it over to the professor, who nodded gratefully. "Of course, Danny. I'm sure you have a good excuse. Hand out the syllabi please."

Mindy held her breath, praying that he wouldn't see her. She hunched down in her seat and stared intently at the paper in front of her. He had seen her, of course, almost from the very first moment he'd entered the room. And now he was standing perilously close to her, a stack of syllabi hovering inches from her nose. She snatched at it, eyes wide as she stared at Danny in confusion as she passed them along to her classmates.

He smiled, almost imperceptibly before turning back to Professor Garibaldi. "Got carried away last night, doing research for a book."


	2. Ch 2

**A/N: I am so bad at doing what I say I'm going to do. This was supposed to be a one shot, but man, the comments on and reviews both on FF and ao3 were so wonderful and encouraging I just couldn't stop. :O Feel free to let me know what you all think. Enjoy.**

Sure, Danny had entertained the notion that he'd see her again on campus, maybe approach her with a devil may care smile, some cleverly flirtatious comment on his lips to make her smile, laugh even. He'd certainly never imagined this situation, hours stuck in her presence on a weekly basis, a morally gray ethical quandary that he'd picked the wrong side of facing him every time she strolled into the lecture hall.

Sometimes he was overwhelmed by the strangest sensations when he looked at her, the most vivid recollections would spring immediately to mind. The sound of her flying apart beneath his touch was the first thing that always drilled into his ears when he saw her walk into the room. It always sent an inescapable little thrill through him, even at the most inopportune moments.

But that was perhaps the most innocuous reaction she engendered in him. When she wore her hair down, he could recall the feather light sensation of it brushing across his face as she writhed on top of him, a whiff of citrus materializing from nowhere to invade his nostrils as he made notations in Garibaldi's calendar. He'd feel a rush of blood surge through him insisting he do something about it, overheating him as he sat in the drafty hall.

The worst part was when she smiled at some other student, never him, and he felt an echoe of desire ricocheting through him. It reminded him of the unfinished business between them, destined to remain unfinished indefinitely. He'd honestly thought he'd never lock eyes with her again, never be reminded of the way he'd taken matters into his own hands upon returning home, the way he'd let the scalding hot water run over him in the shower while he imagined the taste of her mouth, the way he'd abused himself while wondering what it would be like to be buried in the deep vee of her voluptuous thighs, availing himself of the heat he'd already sampled.

It was a problem, one that he took drastic measures to solve. He soon realized seeking out her face during class was a biggest part of the problem, so he began lugging homework with him to fill the time while Garibaldi droned on. But it wasn't enough. He soon discovered that she was in the weekly chem lab he instructed, so he traded in some long held favors and switched with one of the other TA's, putting a uncomfortable crimp in his already pathetic social life.

Still, it was impossible to eradicate all interaction. She sat in the front row, eagerly lapping up all the information laid at her feet, and he couldn't help but look at her when she was directly in front of him. He practiced a grumpy expression to hide the irresistible interest he felt when she caught his eyes, an expression that he knew seemed cold. It's just the way it needed to be. He couldn't have any impropriety surrounding him, not at this point. He was so close to finishing everything and moving on to the next long awaited step.

So, the pang of loss he felt at this very moment as some overly confident bozo slipped in easily beside her, chatting her up, was just something he'd have to deal with. It wasn't any of his business anyway, and it definitely wasn't jealousy that motivated him to approach the aforementioned bozo immediately after class either.

"You in this class?"

Rather than answer him, the mystery guy glided over to him, his hand outstretched in an obvious invitation. "No, I'm auditing. The name's Brendan."

"Daniel." Ignoring the proffered hand, Danny just glared at him. "Do you have your paperwork? I'll need to see it before you can continue attending the lectures."

Coolly, Brendan pulled a neatly folded paper from his pocket, handing it over without hesitation. Danny snatched it from his grasp, making a few notations in his notebook, snorting as he read Brendan's area of study. "Methods of Homeopathic research?"

Brendan merely nodded, the zen expression never leaving his features as Danny shoved the crumpled paper back in his outstretched hand. "You seem a little tense, for a TA. I lead a group meditation on the quad every Sunday afternoon. You should come."

Before Danny could voice the automatic refusal of Brendan's invitation, a cheerful voice cut into their conversation. "Brendan, Brendan…" She ran up beside them, slightly out of breath. "I forgot to give you my number, so you could help me study." Mindy smiled sweetly at the both of them, a tiny scrap of paper held between her well manicured fingers.

Brendan turned his pleased expression to Mindy, slipping the paper from her fingers before he grasped them with his own. He drew her hand to him, brushing a light kiss against the back of her knuckles. "Thank you, Mindy. It'll be a pleasure I'm sure."

And with that Brendan made his exit as smoothly as he'd entered, leaving Danny frowning after him. He turned to Mindy. "I'm not sure how much help he'll be for you. He's not even in this class."

"Oh, please. Like I need help. I just wanted to give him my number." She winked at Danny and very nearly skipped out of the building.

* * *

Dr. Garibaldi's office was just one more thing that reinforced Danny's determination to finish his degree and move on to med school. Academia had relegated the smartest man he'd ever known to working out of a space the size of shoe box. It just wasn't for him, not Danny Castellano.

He'd had the small bedroom growing up, shared with a brother so much younger that it was borderline strange having bunk beds. He'd lived on the shoe string budget, clipping coupons with his mom Saturday mornings. He was good and ready for a life of luxury and ease.

Which is why he didn't mind working multiple jobs and shouldering his TA responsibilities while pulling all nighters in the university library. It was tough, and sometimes he felt the stress pressing in on him, but he was certain there would be a grand payoff in the near future.

Sometimes, when he stayed late to grade papers for Garibaldi, and everyone else in the chemistry department left for the day, he even found the current life he lead to be pleasant. There weren't many places he had peace and quiet, the guys he boarded with barging in at all hours, the occasional high pitched girlish squeal in the living room. It made him painfully aware of the years he'd taken off, the numerically small yet maturationally huge gap between him and his roommates.

Garibaldi was an old school kind of guy, someone with an ancient record player sitting on a dusty shelf between his leather bound books, a select few records resting just within reach. He made a mental note to construct something like this for himself whenever he was lucky enough to have his own place, a masculine space with his favorite things all within arm's length, an unspoken aura of privacy surrounding it.

There was one record that Danny particularly liked, the cover graced with a round faced Bob Dylan, his baby fat still clinging to him, a guitar clutched to him like a shield. The songs on it weren't like anything Danny had listened to growing up. They didn't have the brash confidence of Bruce Springsteen, the musical journey of, well, Journey. There was no unrelenting swell of sound pumping through his veins at it crescendoed in a declaration of rebellion. It meandered, in and out of lengthy stories, the acoustic guitar's occasionally twanging strings strangely complementary to the flaws in Dylan's voice. The self titled album so aptly named. This is it. This is me.

It was the first thing he did before sitting down to mark up the pristine white papers in front of him. Dropping the needle delicately in the first groove had become a ritual of sorts. Danny had always had trouble unwinding, but there was something about the familiar crackle of the vinyl that had just enough nostalgia in it to loosen his tightly coiled muscles.

At the moment, his grading pen lay forgotten beside a stack of Freshman chem tests, his head dropped back against the leather padding of the office chair. The stress of this week needed a little more time than usual to roll off his shoulders. Three times this week he'd found himself on the phone with his petulant little brother, having a one sided conversation about acceptable behavior, his mother in the background going on and on about her wayward child. Richie had been getting into tussles at school lately, coming home with scraped knuckles and the occasional black eye, and when Danny tried to pry out the reasons behind these altercations, Richie only responded with stony silence.

Danny breathed deep even inhalations as the music crackled his ears, thinking maybe he'd stay here a while after finishing his tasks. He couldn't put up with Andrew tonight, the crass undergrad going on and on about his lays, and now, pestering him constantly for updates on Danny's nearly non-existent social life. It rankled.

Quietly the last song faded out, leaving an unsettling white noise as the needle circled in the lock groove. Danny raised his hands to rub the exhaustion from his eyes before rising to restart the record. Danny smiled. When Garibaldi went old school, he _really_ went old school, the player in front of him an antique compared to the one sitting in his childhood bedroom.

He gently lowered the player's arm with his index finger, the needle millimeters away from the lead-in at the edge of the record.

"Excuse me!"

Danny nearly dropped the needle, his shoulders tensing at the sharp greeting echoing from the hall. He'd left the office door open in an effort to stave off the inevitable feeling of claustrophobia that came with sitting in a windowless office.

He felt his shoulders involuntarily roll back, his legs spread into a wider stance as he shut off the record player, turning toward her. Mindy Lahiri. He knew it before he saw her, the distinctive high and tinkling tone of her voice something he'd gotten used to over the past several weeks. She was a top student, chiming in frequently on Garibaldi's lectures. There she was, poking her head in while she knocked belatedly on the door jamb, her hair falling in a silken wave as she leaned across the threshold.

Abruptly he turned away from her, taking his seat once again behind the desk, feigning undue interest in the papers before him. "Garibaldi's not here, come back tomorrow during his office hours. They're listed on the syllabus."

Ignoring his sharp tone she stepped through the doorway anyway, smiling as she curiously looked around her. "I wasn't looking for Dr. Garibaldi." She adjusted her messenger bag, the strap digging into her shoulder somewhat, the weight of the thing obvious as it swung at her side. She stepped toward him, wedging herself into the tiny space in front of Garibaldi's bookshelf. The collection of various knickknacks drew her attention. She peered closely at a plastic molecular model. "That Garibaldi's one wild dude. Can you imagine him at like Woodstock or something, tripping through the fields while Jimi Hendrix played in the background?"

He set down the paper he'd been fingering, total confusion sweeping over his features. "What are you talking about?"

She picked up the model, turning back to him as she dropped her bag in the floor. Her eyes were wide as she used it to gesture at him. "You don't see it? Really? I thought you were some science genius or something, pulling Garibaldi's TA spot." She presented it to him like a model on the price is right, elegantly pointing to the various parts. "Lysergic acid diethylamide?"

He frowned at her, flipping through his mental encyclopedia until he landed on that particular molecule. "What? No it's not."

She nodded, a look of smug satisfaction spreading across her face. "Yes it is." She upended the model, scanning the bottom of it before handing it to him to inspect. "It _so_ is."

Danny was speechless, feeling bested by the perky woman practically bouncing on her heels in front of him. "That old hippie must have some fond memories of tripping on LSD."

Danny felt a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He couldn't help but find her recall abilities impressive. "I'm sure he's just impressed with the drug's hallucinogenic properties, and its fascinating history in relation to organic chemistry. Good eye though."

She dropped down in the chair across from him, squeezing her knees up against the front of the desk. "Don't be such a stick in the mud, Daniel. Lots of successful and famous people have done LSD, and they all say it's a very enlightening experience. Aldous Huxley… Steve Jobs… even Dan Rather."

"The news anchor?"

She nodded in affirmation. "And I don't just have a good eye. I'm intelligent." She reached down to scoop her bag off the floor. "Which is why I'm here."

Her tone shifted from flirtatious to combative in the blink of an eye, and it had him straightening in his chair defensively. He opened his mouth. "No one ever said you weren't smart, Ms. Lahiri."

She rolled her eyes, a juvenile act that should have undermined her argument, but it only made him wary. Reaching into the bag, she found what she was looking for and pulled it out in a dramatic flourish. "Would you drop the 'Ms. Lahiri' crap, you know my name, ok. Just stop. And as a matter of fact, _you_ have said that I'm not smart."

"What? No, I haven't."

"Well, at least implied." She tossed the paper on the desk in front of him. "This is _not_ a C paper. This is an A paper, that has a clearly stated thesis and scores of supporting arguments and citations, and _just_ because you're not used to the 'overly floral' lexicon I have at my disposal, it doesn't mean that it deserves a lesser grade."

"What makes you think I graded it?"

She threw him the most disgusted look in her arsenal, her lip curling in distaste. "Oh, please. Of course you graded it. Garibaldi is a forward thinking scientist, who only cares about the facts presented him, and not from whence they come. You, on the other hand, can't seem to stop your personal relationship with me from getting in the way of your ability to properly dole out grades. Plus, that's obviously your tiny little repressed handwriting all over the back page."

"Personal relationship? What personal relationship?" The volume of his voice rose unexpectedly, his hands palming the desk in front of him.

"Are you kidding me? We spend three hours together every single Saturday morning!"

He looked at her like she was crazy. "And seventy five other students. Before today I've had exactly _one_ interaction with you, and that was before I knew you were a student in this particular class. I'll put it this way. I have the same personal relationship with you as that lamp. The lamp provides light to that particular part of this room, and you… you do whatever it is you do, wherever it is you do it." He nodded toward the desk lamp in front of him, the light glowing from it under the thin green glass shade. " _Ms. Lahiri_ I bear zero ill will toward you, in fact I bear nothing toward you at all."

"The lamp?" Fire blazed in her eyes. "Are you _kidding_ me." She dropped her normal high pitched cheer, her voice going down at least an octave in her indignation.

Seeing her off balance, made him suddenly feel even keeled once again. He leaned back in the chair, even propping his legs on the corner of the desk, fingers laced behind his head. "Of course, maybe I should refrain from grading any of your papers from here on out, seeing as how you've formed such a clearly unlamplike attachment to myself."

"Can I take one moment to indulge this utterly narcissistic conversation, rife with made up words, and ask you what the hell you're talking about?"

"I see how you sneak glances at me while Garibaldi is yammering on about molecular weights. You've got it bad. It's only natural. Inexperienced co-ed, latching on to the first person to give her a little attention."

She shook her head, the heat building in her making her eyes glow. "That's absurd." She angrily rose from the chair, jerking her messenger bag up off the floor. She extricated herself from the tight space stomping toward the door. She couldn't quite leave though. Spinning on her heel she turned back to him. "As a matter of fact, Daniel, I do believe you're the one harboring unlamplike feelings for _me._ You never graded me so harshly before…"

"Before what?" Danny could feel the sweat glistening on his brow. He knew the tell tale dark splotches would soon be blooming across the fabric of his cotton button down in a matter of minutes.

"Before Brendan started walking me to and from class every single day. You're jealous."

"Jealous? That idiot isn't even taking the class. He's _auditing._ " He spat out the word as if it were a rotten piece of meat. "I repeat, we have no personal relationship, so there's nothing to be jealous about. You're nothing but a lamp to me."

She clenched her jaw, a strangled growl of frustration escaping before she turned and left. She couldn't resist one last barb as she stomped away, yelling at the top of her lungs. "You sure enjoyed inspecting this lamp's wires, didn't you Danny?"

He listened to the echoing clicks of her heels in the hall until they faded completely away. For the life of him he couldn't figure out what part of him wanted to go running after her.

* * *

There were tears streaming down her face, but she wasn't sad or even upset. She was angry, a fire in her belly with no outlet. If he wasn't her TA she would have slapped him as hard as possible, relished the sting of her fingers against his skin. If only actions didn't have consequences. Wouldn't that just be perfect?

She couldn't see past her boiling rage, stomping down the hall toward the exit, her fingers trembling as they clenched and unclenched around the strap of her messenger bag. She knew she must look like a lunatic, the mascara running down her face in sooty little rivulets. Her endorphins had to have some kind of release, it was either this or pummeling a certain cocky Italian into a bloody pulp.

She rounded the corner at full speed, head down as she tried to regain her composure. A human wall met her, knocking her nearly flat on her ass, messenger bag flying off her shoulder, contents spilling out across the floor.

Something inside of her broke and the floodgates opened, fully formed sobs wracking her as she drew her knees up to her chest. She let the human roadblock collect her belongings and stick them back into her bag without a word, tucking her face into her knees in embarrassment. It wasn't until she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder that she looked up.

Clear understanding eyes stared down at her, one hand held out in offering. "Brendan… What are you doing here?" She took his hand, and rose unsteadily to her feet.

"I was walking by and couldn't help but sense some clearly unpleasant vibes emanating from this building. I had to investigate, just in case." He eyed her carefully, taking a step back and squinting. "You're aura seems… different than before. Are you upset?"

Brendan was sweet, but she fought the urge to roll her eyes, anyone who wasn't blind could see she was upset. "Um… yeah, but it's nothing. I'll get over it." She pursed her lips together. "No, you know what. It's not fine. Not at all." She turned toward Brendan, head held high. "I'm sick of people thinking I can either be girly OR smart. That I can like science OR pop culture. That somehow my interest in one precludes an ability to be taken seriously in regards to the other. It's damn sexist, if you ask me."

Brendan nodded. "Yes, yes. I agree. The patriarchy is quite disturbing. I take it someone in particular has hit a nerve today?"

She nodded, a little leary of blabbing about her conversation with Danny. Brendan took it in stride. "Don't worry. I'm fairly certain I know the source of your discomfiture." He leaned forward, placing a hand on each of her shoulders as he looked deeply into her eyes. "Don't let Danny make you feel less than you are, Mindy."

She felt a tiny smile spread across her face. His motivational-poster-worthy generic advice was a bit silly, but she still found it endearing that he cared enough to offer it. She opened her mouth to reply, but he swooped in close, laying an affectionate kiss on her cheek.

"How did you know it was him?"

Brendan turned, guiding her out of the building. "Because he's been watching you from the end of the hall since you ran into me. So predatory."


	3. Ch 3

**A/N: Omg, I'm kind of astonished at the reception this story has gotten on AO3 and FF. I appreciate the reviews and comments I've received so so much, and hope that anyone feels free to leave their thoughts about anything at all. I feel like I've found the direction that I want this story to go in, and I sincerely hope I can keep up with it and actually finish it. Fair warning, this chapter kicks off with an awkward and shall we say, unfulfilling intimate scene. Read at your own risk. :P**

The spiderweb of cracks running along Brendan's ceiling did not merit the scrutiny Mindy was giving it. The small water stain beside the light fixture wasn't so fascinating she couldn't take her eyes off of it. There wasn't some hidden meaning in the almost invisible dust bunnies clinging to the blades of the ceiling fan, but no one could be blamed for thinking that maybe the answer to life's biggest questions lay somewhere in these details. Mindy's single minded attention was very misleading.

There were other things, of course, she could pay attention to. The erratic panting at her ear, hot puffs unpleasantly moist against the exposed skin of her neck, or the incessant creaking of the tiny twin bed as he rose and fell over her, punctuated by the unusually disturbing sound of thighs smacking against her ass. The ceiling just seemed like a better option.

Not that this was unpleasant, not really. Six months ago she would have thought it par for the course, and probably could have even found something likeable about the persistent way he did the same thing over and over and over again. They were connected in a way that was all too reminiscent of her sexual experiences in high school. He was inside of her, one hand clumsily palming her breast while the other was braced against the headboard. She should have felt something, it should have been fireworks and explosions. But no, flat on her back, her legs passively bracketing his hips, she felt like she was waiting it to begin, some shadow of pleasure hovering just out of reach as Brendan continued his supposed tried and true methods.

She sighed as his thrusts became more frenzied, his breaths coming out in irregular little grunts at her ear. It certainly didn't seem like she would be given the time to reach for the pleasure waiting in the distance.

That's not to say there wasn't pleasure to be had. Their makeout session had left her feeling breathless and more than a little hot under the collar, fueled perhaps by the anger she still felt coursing through her veins. She'd been so eager to get to the good part... this part.

For a man who talked about souls connecting and "reaching other planes of existence" he was surprisingly vanilla in the sack, immediately pinning her to the mattress once the barrier of their clothes had been removed, sinking into her with an almost smug grunt of satisfaction.

She'd even been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt when she'd seen a copy of the Kama Sutra lying on his nightstand, thinking maybe it was just a misguided attempt to seem sexually and spiritually adventurous and not, as was probable, a calculated purchase in an effort to "connect" with her culturally.

When they'd' stumbled into his room, he'd gestured to the obviously new book lying on his bed amongst his textbooks. "Oh, let me move these." He'd sent her a provocative glance, and she'd known. She was dealing with a bit of a tool.

It didn't stop her though, she shoved past the irritation over his obvious attempt to connect to her "culturally" (as if that was something every Indian chick wanted, a man well versed in impossible sexual positions, idiot).

She was a woman on a mission though, and Brendan, for all his misguided gaffes, had always treated her kindly. She'd just have to let him know how transparent he was at a times, as a friend of course, and educate him on the literally thousands of other things that were awesome about Indian culture, and also maybe the tens of things that were interesting about Concord, Massachusetts.

Her hands traveled to his back, involuntarily comparing his trapezius muscles to the last ones she'd traced her fingertips across. There were no similarities there. Even through a layer of soft cotton, she'd been able to feel the hard muscles of Danny's back rippling as she'd attacked his lips. Brendan was soft under her fingers, not in a bad way exactly. There was just an absence of tightly coiled energy, his skin not quite as taut as she would have imagined, definitely not radiating the waves of heat she'd felt pour off Danny. She absentmindedly wondered what Daniel Castellano did in his spare time.

She closed her eyes, tired of the off-white ceiling filling her vision, and honestly tried to bring her thoughts back to the present. She'd read somewhere that all female orgasms began and ended in the brain, some lucky women being able to achieve climax without a single touch, if only she could focus.

She concentrated first on her breathing, taking in deep breaths in time to Brendan's strokes, moaning as she lingered on the nearly negligible friction against her clit, hoping to magnify it with the power of thought. What did they say? Fake it till you make it? There had to be some validity to that method.

It sort of worked, a little, more when she wrapped her legs firmly around him, locking her ankles and arching her hips at a more productive angle. A little whimper spilled forth as she got a faint intimation of what could come. She arched up in search of Brendan's lips, but he buried his face in her hair and let out a loud groan. He was completely stiff against her. Well, not _completely_. He held himself impossibly still for a few seconds before withdrawing and collapsing on the bed beside her.

She glanced at the clock, shifting against the movement of the mattress as he slipped off the used condom, depositing it in the wastebasket. Sufficient time had passed, she supposed, for Brendan to consider this a success, and she wondered if maybe there was something wrong with her, if the night with Danny had been a fluke.

She shrugged off the thought, thinking instead that at least it would be pleasant to fall asleep with someone, his arms wrapped around her as they drifted. She could admit that, in the past, her favorite thing about sex had been post-coital cuddling.

Settling in, she tugged the comforter up under her chin and waited for him to turn back around. Her wait was short, but it didn't end the way she expected. He dipped down to drop a kiss on her forehead, pulling back to ask, "Do you need me to walk you back to your room?"

There was a buzzing in her ears, a swarm of angry bees trapped inside her skull as she processed the unexpected question. She could see his lips continued to move, but the words just couldn't make it through the din. Somewhere in the back of her mind was a tiny voice telling her to spring from the bed, stand boldly before him in her birthday suit and declare him unfit for the likes of Mindy Lahiri. The voice was completely drowned out as she watched his lips curve up into a self satisfied smile, waiting for some kind of response from her.

"Mindy, hello? Did you hear a word I just said?"

She shook her head, unwilling to open her mouth for fear of what might come out. A petulant whine and an angry diatribe fought for position in her throat. Brendan's powers of perception were not as honed as he believed, his smile widening as he looked at her. "That good, huh?"

Mindy snorted in disbelief, watching as he pushed himself off the bed, strolling casually to his chest of drawers to pull out a pair of boxers. The light of his lamp cast strange shadows over his body, and she realized for the first time that she wasn't particularly attracted to him, although he did have a nice butt. The sudden hilarity of the situation washed over her. The man really was totally clueless. "Uh, yeah… sure. Could you repeat yourself, please?"

He nodded, stepping into a pair of polka-dot silk shorts. "I was telling you I could walk you to your dorm. It's not that out of the way, and I do like a good night time stroll. I find the quiet meditative."

"You don't want me to stay?" She knew the answer, but some sadistic area of her brain was sending the electric impulses to her lips anyway.

He looked up, a thoughtful expression on his face, as though he were weighing the pros and cons of such an arrangement. "Well, I'm sure it would be nice, but we both have class early, and that bed is small." He sauntered over to her, running the back of his knuckles across her cheek.

She leaned into the touch, her traitorous body responding to the sweet gesture. "And I know you don't want to try to complete your extensive beauty regimen the communal bathroom down the hall."

She withdrew, her temporary naivete vanishing. "Extensive? Excuse me? I'll have you know I wake up flawless." She jumped up, pushing past him as her feet touched the floor. Her eyes scanned the room quickly, looking for her hastily discarded clothing. She spied her dress hanging off the end of his bed, underwear and bra a few feet from that. "Of course _you_ wouldn't know that… _won't_ know that."

Dropping the sheet she darted for the clothing, the muscles working in her jaw as she pulled her panties on and fasted her bra clasp. Her fingers trembled in anger as she slipped the dress over her shoulders, struggling to grasp at the closure.

He came up behind her, helpfully drawing the zipper up to the back of her neck, holding her hair out of the way, his fingers making short work of the little decorative button. Soft lips pressed gently against the back of her neck briefly. She whirled on him, hating that his argument was logical, that she had nothing to say against it really.

She slipped her flats on and scooped up her messenger bag. "No need to walk me back, Brendan. I've got a can of mace and switchblade in this outer pocket." She patted the leather satchel menacingly, giving him a glare as she swung the door to his room open.

She was out in the hall before he could manage a reply, the harsh fluorescent lighting making the green carpeting look like baby vomit. Identical doors flew by as she speed-walked the length the building. Would this hallway never end? She felt like she was trapped in another dimension, walking along a conveyor belt intent on sending her in the opposite direction.

Finally she reached the end of the seemingly infinite hallway, hand reaching out to open the heavy outside door. She couldn't help but pause though, casting one last sad look to see if he'd changed his mind. She waited a beat longer than was necessary, disappointment making her arms heavy as she pushed through the exit.

The cold night air hit her unexpectedly, the temperature having dropped dramatically in the time she'd been inside. She loved the fall, but it never seemed like she had the proper attire. It was always either colder than she'd expected or warmer. A gust of wind pulled at the hem of her dress, sending a sharp chill across her skin. Tucking her arms in, she ducked her head down and made a run for her building.

* * *

Danny slipped his coat on, glancing at his watch one more time before flipping the collar up. It seemed as though winter was making itself known in the frigid atmosphere, a chilly dampness that hinted at possible precipitation to come. He wondered if it might snow, blanket the campus in white. A part of him leftover from childhood secretly hoped it would, even though he knew how inconvenient rescheduling Garibaldi's meetings and rearranging his syllabi would be if classes were actually cancelled. The hope was chased by a stab of guilt when he realized he wouldn't get to take Richie to the park this year after the first snow, too many obligations getting in the way.

Out of habit he shoved his hand down in the pocket of his coat, searching for the crumpled cellophane pack of Marlboros he kept there. He was a closet smoker, doing it only in the cover of darkness, shoulders hunched against the inquiring glances of passersby. He knew it was bad for him, and he knew the looks that people would give him if they knew, but some days were just one thing after another and by the time he got to the end his nerves were a frayed knot, inches away from coming unraveled.

Cigarettes helped, a little. He knew it was an illusion, and in fact that they increased his blood pressure, arteries constricting as the stimulants coursed through his veins, but that momentary release of tension was worth the price he paid on his subsequent morning jogs.

He picked up his pace, the cigarette travelling to his lips for a deep drag every couple seconds, lungs burning as the smoke circulated through them, the almost ashy taste on his tongue pleasant after a such a disappointing day.

He smoked the thing down to the butt, frowning as the ember reached the gold line separating the filter from the tobacco. He was tempted hastily withdraw another one, light if off the dying cherry, but chain smoking wasn't something he wanted to start so he pinched the end and sent it flying into the nearest trash can.

The level of tension riding in his shoulders didn't decrease, the anxiety in the back of his mind didn't shift into something more manageable. He supposed it was different when there was something specific bothering you. A crutch like nicotine could do little to prop up the calm facade when reality refused to be ignored. He was irritated with himself, with his reaction to a certain beautiful co-ed, with her attraction to a certain 'namaste' saying, homeopathic remedy specialist wannabe… Great, now his thoughts were rambling at him, that was never a good sign.

Finally his car came into view, bathed in a pool of cold white light emanating from a buzzing lamp post. All he had to do was drive home, crawl into the comfort of his large bed, draw the goose down comforter up over his head and try to forget everything that had transpired this evening. The scene read easily in his mind, but he knew it would be all but impossible to fall asleep with this hollow feeling in his chest.

If he'd only been more tactful, slower to respond to her clearly provocative words. But damn it, the truth of what she'd been saying had cut him to the quick, and he didn't want to admit it. Yes, he was jealous of Brendan, of the ease which everything seemed to come to the asshat. He wanted Mindy to himself, which was beyond stupid, because weeks ago he'd decided it was as bad idea and tried to put it completely out of his mind.

There was also no small amount of humiliation pressing down on him, the inane conversation about lamps running over and over in his mind, a fresh wave of embarrassment crashing over him each time he thought the word "unlamplike." He'd sounded like an idiot, almost instantly regretting the bent of their conversation, hearing the hurt buried beneath her parting barbs.

Just as he'd stepped out into the hall, determined to go after her, to apologize for the way he'd handled the situation, her books had gone flying, arms swinging out behind her to brace herself for a fall. His heart had leapt into his throat, worry stopping his diaphragm when she'd crumpled in a heap on the cold tile.

He'd taken two, maybe three steps before his brain issued the usual command. Wait. Wait. The cause of her disaster had stepped out from around the corner, and all the air had gone out of him, a deflating sensation he couldn't quite define encompassing him as he'd watched the two chat. Brendan pulling her up off the floor easily, her sweet smile as the other man had looked into her eyes, earnest words making her nod in appreciation, Brendan's smug glance in his direction immediately before kissing her gently.

Hands on his hips, Danny had turned and walked right back into the office, determined to finish all of his work for the week in one night, to stamp out the bottomless feeling in his gut. That had been hours ago, every sane person on campus was now tucked into bed, or had their noses buried in books as they studied. He hadn't encountered a soul as he made his way to the distant parking lot, doggedly marching from one pool of light to another.

Danny fumbled for the keys to his car, cursing the cold for his stiff fingers as he approached the compact little hatchback. He finally plucked the right one from the mix just as a blood curdling scream caught his attention. Without a thought he turned away from his car, sprinting toward the source of the sound.

* * *

The screeching echo of her own vocal chords pierced Mindy's ear drums, sound waves vibrating painfully against the delicate structures. She snapped her mouth shut, hoping she hadn't drawn any unwanted attention, the scream turning into a sullen whimper.

She couldn't see the cause of her violently wrenched ankle, the shadows she'd tumbled into obscuring her vision completely, but she did know she'd landed in an icy puddle, the back of her dress soaked through. She slammed her hands down onto the damp grass, feeling a tantrum roll through her limbs as her feet kicked out. Squeezing her eyes shut, she let go again, a second scream flying from her lips, this time in anger and frustration.

The wetness slipped through her fingers, colder than she'd expected, the unexpected slime of mud clinging to her skin as she gathered up little fistfulls of muck, plucking at tufts of grass and tossing them down angrily. She screamed for such a duration that her lungs gave out, squelching the sound unexpectedly as she gasped for air, her chest heaving.

The oxygen once again began to flow to her brain, and Mindy was struck by how ridiculous she must look, deranged even, eyes bugging out of her head like a maniac as she did some nighttime weeding. She knew she needed to pull herself together, limp sheepishly back to her room. She made a silent prayer, hoping against hope that Maggie was out for the night.

Her movements stilled, ankle throbbing with each beat of her overexcited heart, she simply stared at the expanse in front of her. She could see the tiny little lights, all neat in rows, the occasional one blacked out, windows in the buildings before her. The twinkle of christmas lights strung along the entrances of a few festive feeling dorms mesmerized her into an almost hypnotic state as she stared.

She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, a dark shape darting in and out of the shadows. For a split second she believed she was seeing some wild creature loping across the campus, a tiny thrill of danger zipping through her as she imagined bared fangs and sharp talons. Squinting, she tried to catch the true shape of the figure as it darted under the next pool of light.

A true chill of terror settled in her bones when she realized it was a person… headed straight for her. Shit, shit, shit. Her already skittering heart began to beat wildly as she recalled the far carrying nature of her voice, the sound waves bouncing off the buildings, sailing through the empty night air.

She'd seen nature documentaries about this sort of thing. The poor defenseless baby monkey trapped in the quagmire of mud by the ever shrinking watering hole, simply waiting for death as its increasingly forlorn cries attracted the attention of nearby alligators. She blinked a dozen times, trying to adjust her eyesight to the darkness as she scanned her surroundings for her book bag.

Spying it, she immediately tried to get up, the but her swollen ankle protested, and she collapsed, landing square on her knees in the wet grass. Her survival instincts kicked in and she desperately crawled toward her book bag.

Her fingers brushed the leather strap at the same time she heard the quick cadence of someone running up behind her, his steps somewhat muffled by the springy turf. Suppressing the urge to curl into a ball and give in to the almost irresistible desire to throw up, she shoved her hand into the outer pocket, fingers brushing the thing she'd been seeking all along.

Whipping around dramatically, she raised her right hand, finger hovering on the trigger of her small can of mace as the panic bubbled up in her chest. She pressed down, just as her would be attacker knelt in front of her, one hand extended. "Mindy?"

She knew she'd fucked up majorly as soon as the atomized liquid splashed out against her fingers. She had the damn thing pointing in the wrong direction, a fog of irritant enveloping her almost immediately.


	4. Ch 4

**A/N: Took me a little while to get this one written, and I actually ended up rewriting a few chunks of it after I thought I was finished. Anway. I really liked this chapter, there's definitely no Brendan in it (which I'm told by a very reliable source that it's a plus). The saga of maced mindy continues. Please feel free to comment or leave reviews, I find them super encouraging (I love them, ok, shhh).**

Danny loped across the campus, the springy turf giving when he cut across the large swaths of grass between the sidewalks. He was still running in the direction of the scream, but the sounds had mysteriously stopped. His strides slowed, coming to a full stop as he strained his ears. Nothing.

Hands on hips he panted, the sheen of sweat cooling against his skin as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do. There was someone out there, in distress, possibly in danger, and he couldn't just turn around and walk indifferently back to his car.

He pulled his phone out, fully intending to call 9-1-1 to report the incident, when the noises started up again, this time much closer than before. He instantly pocketed the device and dashed off in the direction it was coming from.

It didn't take him very long, he'd been close before, but had somehow veered off in the wrong direction. The screams increased in volume for a breath and then completely died away, his harsh rattle the only thing to fill his ears. It was in that dead quiet that he saw her, the distinct floral pattern of her dress the same one that had flounced angrily from Garibaldi's office.

Time stopped for a split second, the very beating of his heart absent it seemed, an icy hand of fear clutching at him. His sprint morphed into a flat out run, his brain creating and discarding a million scenarios for her prostrate position and muddy dress. Not a single one eased his mind.

His dilated pupils caught the beginning of movement, the swirling unease dissipating for a moment as she attempted to stand, immediately tumbling back to the ground. She scrambled clumsily on her hands and knees, looking for something, her back toward him. He wanted to call out, but his vocal chords had ceased to work.

He skidded to a halt, kneeling as she twisted around to face him, a wild look in her round eyes. "Mindy?" He started to kneel, and even extended a hand to help her up, her ankle appearing to be the source of her problems. But it was as if she were blind with fear, her dilated pupils taking in images that her brain couldn't quite process. Jerking toward him, Mindy threw one hand up dramatically in front of her.

Danny knew what he was seeing, but he couldn't believe it. His brain registered the fact that she was pointing a can of mace at him only mere seconds before her trembling finger pressed down on the trigger. He jerked back, bracing himself for the inevitable burning sensation that would soon chase across his skin, but nothing happened. Opening one eye cautiously, he peeked down at her as she let out a strangled yell.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, an involuntary reaction against the fog of irritant, tears instantly streaming down her cheeks in response to the spray. She coughed as the mace made its way into her sinuses, no doubt burning down her throat, hands shaking violently as she held them out in front of her. He knew she was about to sink irretrievably into panic, her breaths bordering on hyperventilation. Danny did the only thing he could think of, his own panic beginning to edge up on him. He yelled at her to calm down, voice cracking as it issued the command. It wasn't particularly effective.

She screamed up at him, her eyes popping open in rage. "Calm down!? CALM DOWN!" She'd gone past the point of words hiccuping between sobs. He'd never known what to do with a crying woman. His mother only employed tears to guilt him into doing things, and the only thing he knew to do when girls cried about their feelings was clam up and hope it abated. This was different, she was in physical pain, and he could see her unravelling in front of him.

Funnily enough, it reminded him of Richie, her hysterical sobs striking a protective chord in him. The same fear had clutched at him when he'd seen his kid brother lying in the street, holding his shoulder. The damn hand-me-down bicycle lying a few yards away, his brother's shrieks echoing against the pavement. He'd spoken to Richie in a low volume, trying to radiate a calm he hadn't felt as he'd inspected the younger boys dislocated shoulder.

After a split second of indecision, Danny reached forward, hooking his hands under her arms to haul her to her feet. The sobbing stopped for a second, and she blinked rapidly trying to look at him. "Oh my god I'm blind. I've blinded myself. I'll never be a doctor. My parents will send me to live on a farm. I'M NOT LAURA INGALLS WILDER, DANNY! I CAN'T LIVE IN A LITTLE HOUSE!"

He tamped down his instinct to yell right back at her, to tell her she was being stupid. Instead he gave her a gentle squeeze as he pulled her out into a more visible area to inspect the damage she'd done. "Shhh, shhh… it's ok." Finding a bench, he guided her to it. She continued to cry, but there was a blessed absence of yelling and he considered it a win.

He withdrew from the bench, intent on retrieving her bag and inspecting the can she'd dropped on the ground. He needed to know exactly what he was dealing with. She whimpered, her hands flying out in his general direction. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be right back, just gonna grab your bag. You don't have any water in it do you?"

She nodded, gulping in cold air a little too quickly. He turned back to the patch of mud she'd been wallowing in. What the hell had she been doing on the ground anyway? He'd noticed her swollen ankle, but it hardly seemed like something that could account for her dishevelled state, mud caked in between her fingers, leaves in her hair. And what had caused the horrifying screams that had drawn his attention?

He snatched up her bag, and knelt down to look at the can. He wasn't about to pick it up, but it only took him half a second of inspection with the light of his phone to ascertain that she hadn't blasted herself just with mace, but rather pepper spray, which was infinitely worse.

Jogging back over to her, he slid along the bench until his legs brushed up against hers. "Hold still." She complied, responding to the command surprisingly well. "Look straight up."

Again, she did, turning her face upward to the harsh light over them, the whites of her eyes totally bloodshot, her skin just beginning to show signs of puffiness. She sniffled as the tears continued to pour involuntarily from her ducts.

The current period of calm was immediately shattered when Danny unceremoniously poured half a bottle of freezing cold water over her face, leaving her sputtering, hands flying up to dash it away.

He caught her wrists. "Do NOT touch your face. Are you insane?" He felt the sting against his fingers, the residue still clinging to her skin reminding him of the pain she must be in. He softened a little. "That's the last thing you want, ok?"

He gently pulled her hands back to him again, dousing them with the remaining water. "This probably won't help much. You need to get something to neutralize the capsaicin. You haven't got any Maalox, or even milk at your place do you?"

"Sorry, all out of Maalox, my grandmother raided my medicine cabinet, and milk is gross. It makes _some_ people gassy, and some _other_ people who live with those people don't like that." Despite her attempt to be flip, he could feel her hands shaking, the cold seeping into her skin. She shouldn't be out here much longer, the temperature dropping as they spoke.

He felt his shoulders tense as the necessity of their situation dawned on him. He had to bring her back to his place. He felt his hackles rising as the image of her poking her nose through his things flashed before him. He didn't want her dragging her brightly manicured fingers through his carefully organized possessions. "Come on."

She nodded and he got up, slinging her bag over his shoulder with his own, before turning back to help her up. "Hold on a second."

She stared at him open mouthed, futilely trying to blink away the bleariness as he took off his coat. The expression didn't change much as he draped the heavy garment over her shoulders, although if Danny had stopped and really looked, he would have seen the gears turning slowly in her mind as she threaded her arms through the sleeves.

* * *

Mindy felt like human popsicle, an inescapable chill seeping into wet clothing. Her steps were wobbly, the muscles in her calves jittery as her body attempted to turn kinetic energy into warmth. She loved winter, but this was too much, her teeth were basically chattering as wave after wave of goose bumps chased across her skin. Grateful for Danny's silently offered coat, she tucked her hands down into the pockets, her chin dipping below the collar in an effort to escape the cold air. The fingers of one hand curiously traced along the edge of a distinct cellophane wrapper.

It didn't entirely surprise her. She'd smelled the musty odor of a recently smoked cigarette on the front of his shirt when he'd hauled her up off the ground, his hands bigger than she'd remembered as they'd gripped her arms. It was a smell that still invaded her sinuses as she limped along beside him, on arm threaded through his as he dragged her along. For someone who was barely inches taller than her, he certainly walked fast, his determined stride unrelenting in his quest to get to the car.

Her vision began to clear almost immediately, the water having done it's job pretty well. It didn't hurt that her hand had blocked the majority of the irritant. She could now see him each time they passed under a streetlamp, his face lit by harsh white light at even intervals. He had a frown line between his eyebrows cast in stark relief by the lights, his face set in an irritated expression. She could only imagine the look he'd worn when he'd first found her. If the gravelly and clipped tone to his voice had been any indication, it had probably been much the same.

They drove in silence for a good five minutes, the quiet lulling her as she counted the street lamps passing by. She was genuinely appreciative of his help, and even made it a full ten minutes before asking, in a whiny tone, "How much longer?"

He'd only taken his eyes away from the road for a split second, cutting her a sideways glance before facing forward again. "Where'd you get pepper spray anyway? I thought civilians weren't allowed to have that stuff."

"Civilians? Who are you? Cagney? It's perfectly legal… I think… someone gave it to me."

His head jerked back to her, eyebrows shooting up. "What? Cagney's a woman."

She shrugged indifferently. "It's before my time anyway."

He opened his mouth to argue again, but snapped it shut when he realized she was egging him on. Mindy smiled at his restraint, leaning toward him to bump against his shoulder. "Hey… thanks."

She watched him carefully, the glow of the dash light leaving a strange blue sheen to his skin. His lips twitched and he loosened the grip on the steering wheel. "Any time, Lahiri."

* * *

The steam filling up the bathroom curled the hair brushing against the back of his collar, the sound of the running faucet providing the backdrop for the argument he was having. "I swear to God, this is what paramedics use. Just sit down already."

She frowned at him. "Did you mix it correctly? I don't want to walk around with some rash or something because you doused me in undiluted antacids."

"First of all, why would that give you a rash? You already soaked your hands, didn't you? And second of all, it's half and half, not exactly hard to figure out."

She bit her bottom lip, walking over to the edge of the bathtub. She gingerly leaned on the edge of it, beckoning him to come closer with one hand. "I hate getting stuff in my eyes, ok, it's like a phobia." She slipped down into the tile floor, inexplicably lying on her back as she took a deep breath. "You're gonna have to hold me down while you flush my eyes with it, and I warn you, I will almost certainly throw a punch."

Danny continued to stare down at her, hands on his hips. She was a disaster, her once pretty dress muddy and sopping wet, hair frizzy where it had dried unevenly on the trip home, mascara running in dark lines down her cheeks. He felt a pang of sympathy for her, still curious as to why she'd been running across the campus in the dark.

He knelt beside her, one hand resting on her shoulder as he carefully aimed the nozzle of his spray bottle at her. Swallowing, he hesitated. "Why don't you just… take a few deep breaths or something, like meditating. Isn't that what your best friend is always doing?"

There it was, the cutting edge to his voice that she'd been expecting all along. She squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth closing a firm line of displeasure. Danny leaned back, wondering for a moment why Brendan hadn't been with her when she'd fallen. They'd left together, hadn't they? "Where was the crystal wielding medicine man, anyway? You haven't mentioned him."

She opened her eyes, intending to look at him, but an unexpected wave of embarrassment crashed over her, and she turned her head to the side, focusing instead on the line of caulking between the tub and floor tiles. She was uncharacteristically quiet. "For your information… and it's really none of your business… I didn't mention him, because there's nothing worth mentioning."

Danny remained quiet, sensing there was something more. He waited for her to continue.

"He's kind of a jerk."

Danny felt a little flutter of relief in his chest, something intangible releasing as he considered her words. However, the relief was short lived. "He didn't...?" Danny trailed off, afraid to voice the question in his mind. It had hardly been something he'd even considered, but the mere thought had his jaw clenched.

She quickly shook her head, a little alarmed by the intense look Danny was giving her. "No, no, nothing like that."

"But he treated you badly?"

She nodded, sighing a little. "Sort of. Are you happy now?"

Danny was affronted by her question. Did he seem that way to her, like he wanted her to reap the bad decisions she made? It would be better if she just didn't make them at all. He felt tongue tied searching for an answer. Clearing his throat he said the only thing that came to mind. "He's an idiot for treating you badly, I mean, he's an idiot anyway, but…" He trailed off, losing his train of thought as she stared up at him, her bloodshot eyes wide. He remembered why they were there, in such odd positions. "Let's get this over with then."

He reached over her to turn off the faucet before the tub overflowed, returning to hover over her. He gently pressed down on her shoulder, holding her to the floor as she'd advised before flooding her eyes with the solution in his hand.

As promised she involuntarily jerked away from him, one hand flying up and catching him square in the nose. He fell back against the cabinet, and she popped up gasping out an apology. Scrambling across the tile, she reached for his face, attempting to inspect the damage.

He jerked away. "No, no.. it's alright." Pulling himself up, he shuffled toward the door, one hand probing the bridge of his nose. He nodded toward the shelf over the toilet. "There are towels over there, just get yourself cleaned up."

Before she could even respond, the door was clicking behind him, and she was left alone, the sound of the dripping faucet the only thing to fill the quiet.

* * *

The ends of her hair dipped down into the hot water, floating gently above the curve of her breasts peeking above the surface. The temperature was only mildly irritating to her skin, it's benefits outweighing the small discomfort. She was grateful that a bath had been her only option. She certainly couldn't have stood on one foot in a slippery shower for the time it took her to scrub away the filth of the night. Although, it might have been more than interesting to have Danny help her remain upright while showering.

She smiled, soaping her hair with Danny's two in one shampoo. She lamented the lack of her own expensive soaps and conditioners. It would be a frizzy mess, she thought, dipping her head under the water, but at least it would be clean, and she couldn't say the smell of the shampoo was unpleasant. It smelled fresh and clean, and although she had no idea why she would ascribe this quality, masculine.

Despite her intention to make the bath quick, she felt her movements slowing as she progressed through her normal routine. The sudden relief from persistent stinging, coupled with the relaxing effect of the warm water made her drowsy, eyelids drooping down low as she soaped her limbs, muscles feeling like limp noodles.

Running her fingers along her skin, she began to drift, recalling how so recently someone else had been doing the very same thing. Brendan's touch had been hesitant, no firmness beneath his hands. He had seemed unsure of how he should approach her, and the effect was less than desirable.

Danny's firm grip came to mind unbidden, his confident movements had guided her from place to place, stopped her from doing more harm to herself. His self assured behavior rankled sometimes, and she reacted accordingly, but it was only because she felt a little thrill of pleasure dart from her very center each time he did it. Her hands passed over her breasts, pausing as she slipped across the nipples before smoothing down her abdomen. The image of Danny's lips flashed into her mind, the details so precise she could imagine with more than a little certainty that they'd be firm yet soft against her skin.

Her eyes flew open at the thought, a faint shiver of arousal surprising her out of her drifting state. She jerked her wandering hand from the vee of her thighs, mouth forming a surprised little 'o.' There was just too much of him in here. The scent of the soap one she'd recognized immediately as the fresh notes hiding under the must of cigarettes. She shook her head and returned to scrubbing herself, determined to get out of the bathtub as speedily as possible. She didn't need any more time alone with herself, not at this juncture.

Mindy shivered as she padded through the bathroom door, towel clutched to her chest as she gingerly applied weight to her injured foot. Not so bad really. Her head swiveled around to take in her surroundings. She hadn't thought this through. It appeared that Danny lived with other people. People who could come bursting through the door at any time, but she was already slipping across the hardwood floor in search of her rescuer, so there didn't seem to be much of a point in scrambling back to the bathroom. "Danny!"

No answer. She continued to explore the space, finding it to be an odd amalgamation of tastes. She smiled to herself, instantly picking out a few of the additions that were undoubtedly Danny's. The framed picture of some paunchy old baseball player hanging on the wall over the sofa was definitely Danny's. The photograph had drawn her attention instantly, it's sepia tone and antique looking frame contrasting harshly with the almost neon green color of the walls and a piece of garish modern art hung on the opposite wall.

"You're dripping all over the hardwood."

She jumped at the sound of his voice, whirling around to face him, wincing as she came down a little heavy on her bad foot. "Why did old timey baseball players smoke cigars?"

The question caught him off guard, silencing the complaint on his lips. "Huh?"

Jerking her head toward the picture, she continued. "Cigars. It just seems weird." She turned back, only to find him casting a half-lidded gaze over her. He lingered on her bare shoulders, eyes eventually following the line of the towel down her body. She swallowed. "I mean, I guess baseball was easier back then, it didn't matter if your lung capacity was crap, or your teeth were yellow. It's probably why baseball players are so much hotter these days." She arched an eyebrow, hoping to cover her nervous rambling with a confident glance.

He narrowed his eyes at her line of questions, instantly on guard. So she knew about the cigarettes, no surprise really, her hand had been tucked into the pocket of his coat when they'd walked to his car.

"You should quit, Danny. It isn't good for you, and you look like an idiot doing something so unhealthy when you want to be a doctor."

He shrugged, not taking the bait. He couldn't explain it, but the last thing he wanted to do right now was argue with her. "Sometimes smart people do things that are bad for them."

She blushed, the reaction making her whole expression a little warmer, her eyes a little brighter. She had no response, merely standing like a statue in front of him, her lips parting as she let out a little sigh. His eyes were intense, darker than she'd remembered, something in their depths she didn't recognize. It made her dizzy. "How are you like this?"

He broke out of his trance, taking a full step back. "What?"

She readjusted her towel, freeing one hand to perform a sweeping gesture. "This. I feel like I've met three different Danny Castallanos, and I have no idea which one is real." The towel slipped an inch, and she struggled to right it. "Flirty Castellano, Grumpy Castellano, Caring Castellano, Jerky Castellano... Smoldery Castellano." Her voice croaked on the last one.

"That's more than three."

"Yeah, you're right, it's more like the seven dwarves than the three Danny's." She chuckled to herself at the thought. "Actually, the height's about right."

She'd unintentionally pushed a button, seeing his whole demeanor shift, his hands tucking in under his arms as he closed in on himself. "Ha ha, I get it, I'm short and I'm mean, and it's a wonder anyone puts up with me." He stepped forward, and she noticed for the first time that he had something tucked under his arm. "Here, put these on. Your dress is a disgusting mess."

She was taken aback, all if the mirth draining out of her, she reached forward to touch him. The heat of his arm was scalding, even through the fabric of his shirt. "Hey, it was a joke, a little joke, I'm just kidding. I'm here, right? So obviously there's something about you I'm inexplicably drawn to." She plucked the clothing from his outstretched hands.

The mirth was back, her lips curving into a gentle smile. In spite of himself, Danny felt the corners of his mouth betraying him, twitching upward to return the expression. He watched her walk away, couldn't help it really. Her damp hair had a natural wave, sweeping across the tops of her shoulders as she limped back to his bathroom. It was softer looking than he'd ever seen it before, and his fingers itched to draw it away from her neck as he laid gentle kisses there.

Grunting in frustration he headed to his bedroom, in search of something to wrap her ankle with.


	5. Ch 5

**A/N: one last update before I go traipsing off to the middle of nowhere (no internet either :O) to spend two (possibly hellish) days in close quarters with my decidedly not sane family. I look forward to wandering around outside trying to find a signal to check my email. Please feel free to leave comments or reviews and tell me what you think. They are always encouraging and I find them really helpful. Love you all. Happy reading.**

Mindy followed the sounds of boxes being dragged across the floor, making her way through the house quietly, Danny's thick wool socks muffling the sound of her steps. When she discovered the source of the noise, she didn't give in to her first impulse, instead biting down on her bottom lip as she watched Danny from the open doorway.

He was on his knees, hunched over a cardboard box he'd dragged from underneath his bed, digging through it clearly in search of something. It was the first opportunity she'd ever had to look at him unobserved. Her breaths came shallowly in an attempt to be quiet as she slipped closer to him.

The first thing she noticed was the absence of his usual button up, instead a plain white tee stretched across his shoulders, short sleeves tight against his biceps as he collected and discarded various objects. The disorganized jumble in the box was a direct contrast to the room around him. Books were lined evenly on one shelf, his shoes in a neat row at the foot of his bed, the bed itself made neatly without a single wrinkle in the coverlet.

The thing that piqued her interest the most though was the evenly spaced row of pictures hung on his wall, pictures of things she never would have thought to frame. A row of stadium seats at some baseball park she couldn't place, a group of men in filthy coveralls standing along the edge of a pier presumably in New York, a row of cars sitting in front of a nondescript little diner. They weren't taken by someone with an eye for composition, but rather someone eagerly snapping shots of familiar places. It was strange to her how these pictures gave her a sense of who Danny was without providing her with one tangible piece of information.

Her eyes flitted from frame to frame, trying to find something to latch onto, a self satisfied smile spreading across her face as she spotted a little square photo on his bedside table. Forgetting her desire to remain unnoticed, she padded over to it, picking up the tiny frame to look more closely.

Danny's head shot up at the movement over his shoulder, springing to his feet. Within seconds the picture frame was plucked from her fingers. "What are you doing?"

She ignored the irritation in his question, in fact she ignored the question altogether. "That is the most adorable child I have ever seen, with the exception of my baby brother. Is that you?"

Setting the frame gently back in his place, Danny cast her a strange look. "What kind of narcissist has a framed photo of themself on their nightstand?"

Shrugging, she pushed past him her attention drawn to the bookshelf she'd been eyeing earlier. "It kind of looks like you, that's all." She drew her index finger along the line of books in front of her, the fingernail scraping along the various titles. She plucked one from it's spot, and began idly flipping through it, resigning herself to awkward silence. Clearly he didn't feel chatty.

"It's my kid brother."

She turned back to him, open book forgotten in her hand, genuinely pleased smile on her face. "Really? He's so much younger than you."

"That picture's a few years old, but yeah, he's a lot younger."

"Mine too."

"Huh?"

"Rishi, I was twelve when he was born, clearly an accident. Although my parents would never admit that." She laughed, turning back to the book. "What about yours? Accident or not?"

Danny shuffled uncomfortably, the urge to turn around and just walk out of the room pulling at his legs. He hadn't invited her in here, hadn't wanted her to contaminate his space with her presence, her touch. And now she was delving into his personal life. He crossed his arms, tucking his hands in, determined to change the subject. His traitorous brain had other ideas. "More like the last ditch attempt of two miserable people trying to make things work."

He sounded bitter, and Mindy nearly dropped the book, the muscles of her fingers twitching as she suppressed the urge to reach out to him. Surprised by the pain she saw on his face before the shutters slammed down, she placed the volume back on the shelf, laying it across the top of its former neighbors before she walked over to Danny's window.

It was dark, but she could tell his room looked out across an unexpected patch of tranquility in the city, a tiny park in the middle of all the hustle and bustle. "Danny, it's totally snowing."

There was awe in her voice as she watched the flakes float past the windowpane, caught in a beam of light. It was all Danny could do not to stride over to the window and look over her shoulder. Instead he snatched up the misplaced book and reshelved it before returning to the box beside his bed. "Hopefully it won't stick."

"Ok, grumpy, it wouldn't be the end of the world if it did stick, just a slight inconvenience. Ooh, maybe classes will be cancelled." The bed dipped with her weight as she plopped down on it, pulling the comforter's neatly tucked corners askew. She lay across it like a starfish, hands splayed open against the soft material. "Oh God, I miss big beds."

He popped up, ace bandage in one hand, the other awkwardly resting on his hip. "Well, don't get used to it. You're sleeping on the couch."

She ignored his clearly unpleasant mood, eyes drifting shut. "A good host always takes the couch, and the guest gets the bed." She wiggled, wallowing out a spot in the very middle of the mattress.

"Guess I'm lucky you're not a guest." Danny tossed the wrap on the bed beside her, hooking his hands beneath her knees. Her eyes flew open as he abruptly dragged her to the edge of the bed. Mindy wasn't always the best at reading signs. She hadn't known her junior high bestie was in love with her until Amelia had gone for a boob grab and a deep tongue kiss at winter formal (they'd been slow dancing, so Mindy did couldn't lay all the blame at Millie's feet), but she felt confident in the story she read on Danny's face, eyes darkening with desire as he nestled between her legs. The fingers of one hand pressed into the sensitive spot behind her knee, sending a surprising electrical impulse along the length of her body. The soft material of her borrowed pajamas was barely a barrier at all. He wanted her, in spite of the frown turning down the corners of his mouth.

Her lips parted in anticipation, tongue unconsciously darting out to wet her lower lip. The hand on her left knee released it's grip, trailing down the length of her leg. Her breath hitched, some part of her brain insisting that no one's touch carried that much heat. She ignored it, leaning forward in an open invitation.

Just as her lips parted to say something undoubtedly stupid, his fingers encircled her tender ankle, saving her from untried phrases of seduction. He pulled away from her, sliding off her borrowed sock dispassionately.

She felt heat creeping up her neck, a flush suffusing the delicate skin of her ears as his fingers gently probed the tendons of her foot. So maybe she hadn't read the signs right this time either. There was a line of tension running from his neck down to his shoulder, his lips pressed together in a thin line of displeasure. She let out a huge sigh, flopping dramatically back on the bed as he continued to examine her ankle.

"You twisted it pretty badly, if the swelling's any indication." He rolled it, testing her range of motion.

The movement elicited a sharp gasp from Mindy. "Ow! Come on, I have delicate ankles."

"Right, sorry. This is pretty bad, Mindy. You've been walking on it too much."

He was surprisingly gentle after that, crisscrossing the bandage over her foot and up around her ankle before fastening it with a metal clip. He squeezed it lightly and dropped it back to the mattress. "Too tight?"

She shook her head, looking up at him curiously. "You're not really gonna make me sleep on the couch, are you?"

* * *

Danny looked down at her, not for the first time wondering what the hell he was doing. It certainly wouldn't have taken him a good ten minutes to wrap one of his roommates' ankles. His fingers wouldn't have lingered at the exposed skin, tracing along the smooth expanse as the pads of his thumbs had pressed gently into her sole.

Why hadn't he leaned forward and grabbed her when her lips had parted? Her tongue had darted out so quickly, the pink tip brushing across the almost unnoticeable dimple in her bottom lip. He could still remember the feel of her lips against his, soft and full and eager as he drank her in. Why hadn't he slid his fingers through the surprisingly fluffy mass of hair flaring out around her when she'd moved closer?

There were reasons for his inaction. Logical reasons that he'd repeated to himself many times over the course of this semester. It wasn't appropriate for one, even though it wasn't forbidden, it could raise unwanted ethical questions, and even cost him a much needed recommendation letter from Garibaldi. He knew his caution was moored in practicality, but it was so hard to cling to when she was splayed across his bed, casting him what could only be described as bedroom eyes. Was her question an invitation to join her in the expansive bed?

No, no it wasn't. He'd read too much into his own desire, the inescapable pounding in his ears as blood whooshed in and out of his veins. She'd had a tiff with her current fling, and was joust stuck with him. As a matter of fact, she was probably merely trying to use her injury to softsoap him into giving up the bed altogether. He had to believe that.

"It'd probably be good for you, improve your posture."

"My posture?" There it was, the expected outrage. The thick atmosphere was shattered, and Danny for one was grateful. He'd gotten used to seeing her eyes widen in indignation, her cupid's bow mouth dropping open in shock. It was a lot easier to deal with than quietly shy glances through eyelashes.

Reaching forward, he yanked one pillow from behind her head. "You slump in your chair like a petulant middle schooler during Garibaldi's lectures. I bet you're a stomach sleeper. That's bad for your back."

He turned to walk toward the door, his parting comment intended to pull her after him and out of his bed. He smiled, seeing it worked like a charm as she scrambled to slide off the mattress. "I'll have you know, I have perfect posture. I was once contacted by the American Institute of Modeling just to display my talent for walking in impossibly high heels."

He snorted, walking confidently back into the living room, Mindy nipping at his heels. "There's no such thing."

"Like you would know."

"Touché."

* * *

His lips were soft against her skin where they skimmed lightly over her collarbone, yet firm and insistent as he began pressing hungry little kisses into the flesh, trailing down between the valley of her breasts. She could feel his eyelashes fluttering against her heated skin each time he turned his attention to a new spot, always traveling in the same direction.

Her hands reached for him of their own accord, fingers threading through the softly curling hair at his nape. She tugged him back up, craving the feel of his persistent lips against her own, heat curling in her belly as he dragged his body up hers.

Finally, her lips found his, kissing him eagerly as her fingers traveled to his back. She moaned into his mouth as her touch found the well defined lines of his shoulders, eventually tracing along his spine. Something shifted in her, the generalized feeling of pleasure suddenly sharpening into a urgent point.

His hips ground into hers, the sensation of being belly to belly with someone an intimate feeling that drove her wild. She couldn't get enough of his skin, the scalding heat that radiated through his body was like a balm against her own. She craved it, but he just wouldn't cooperate, pulling away unexpectedly, leaving only a hollowness she couldn't explain. She whimpered, suddenly feeling cheated. Was the universe conspiring against her? The pleasure she desperately wanted was so close, and yet so very far away.

Before she could take matters into her own hands and pounce on him like a wild animal, Danny dropped down in front of her, parting her knees gently. Her eyelids fluttered shut, eyes rolling back slightly as he left a hot trail of kisses on her inner thigh, making his way rather quickly to his destination.

His apparent eagerness to do the one thing she'd been most curious about only fueled the fire in her belly, muscles in her lower abdomen jumping in anticipation. A shiver rolled through her body as her nipples tightened, a pleasurable ache in the puckered skin. Sliding his hands beneath her, his fingers squeezed firmly at the rounded flesh of her ass, and he hauled her to him.

The moment his tongue touched her, slipping expertly between the folds to tease her clit, she reached the first crest of pleasure, gasping his name out in a hoarse declaration. He paused, pulling back to smirk up at her, a throaty chuckle tumbling out before returned to his task.

Had this been a few years, or even months ago, she would have believed that first crest to be the pinnacle of her pleasure, a peak she could float down gently from, fully satisfied with the experience. But since that first night with Danny, his fingers doing something his mouth seemed to be infinitely better at, she knew she could never be fully satisfied with half measures ever again.

As if reading her mind, he applied a gentle suction, drawing her clit into his mouth slightly as he dipped two fingers inside of her. She threaded her fingers in and out of his curls, fingernails scraping lightly against his scalp as she guided the motion of his mouth. Another wave crashed over her, and she gasped, feeling the muscles inside of her clench around his fingers. She rolled her hips toward him, silently begging for more.

This time he released the grip on her ass completely, laying his free hand flat across her abdomen to hold her down, shifting slightly to rest on her pubic bone as the fingers inside of her curled at a forty five degree angle. He pressed firmly, eliciting a helpless moan from her. It was different, bigger somehow than the times before. She felt her hands dropping to the bed to clutch at the sheet, desperately searching for something to hold onto.

She was too inexperienced to know if this was how it was supposed to be, or if this was the fabled multiple orgasm so often whispered about at girl's nights, but she felt the third volcanic eruption building inside. Her chest heaving, she prepared herself for the rolling pleasure.

* * *

Her eyes flew open, the sheen of sweat cool against her brow, a lazily turning ceiling fan the only thing filling her vision, dark shadows muffling the shapes around her. No no no. She almost wanted to sob, a strangled little sound escaping her lips. She glanced down at her foot, propped awkwardly on the arm of the sofa, a throw pillow tucked under her knee.

It had been a stupid dream. This time the tears of frustration did squeeze out from between her eyelids, an uncomfortable pulsing sensation between her legs the only reminder of the erotic fantasy she'd just had. Why the hell had she read those books? Hell, doctor's couldn't even decide if the g-spot was real, and here was was fantasizing about it. She clamped her legs together. It only made it worse. What the hell? It was _so_ unfair. She'd been so close, and honestly if she'd just been able to finish in her dream she really wouldn't have been so upset.

Inspiration struck, and she turned her head back into the pillow, squeezing her eyes shut. She willed herself to fall back asleep. Of course, it didn't work. Her heart was still racing from her dream. Little spikes of adrenalin fluttered in her chest now and again, shivers of phantom pleasure darting between her legs.

Opening one eye, she looked toward Danny's bedroom. There was no sign of him, no tell tale light underneath his door, or noisy shuffling. He was probably sound asleep, dead to the world, out like a light.

The fingers of her right hand drifted to the waistband of the pajamas, plucking hesitantly at the elastic as she contemplated what she was about to do. There was something strangely alluring about the possibility of being caught. Making a snap decision, she quickly slipped beneath the material before she lost her nerve. She'd tried this before, unsure of what her goal had been, she'd totally underestimated the amount of forethought needed to pleasure herself in that way. giving up after a short time.

But this was different, a part of her begging to be touched, aching to be released. The dream priming her for the main event. She couldn't just let it drift off into the night. She dipped one finger between the slick folds, eyes widening at the unexpected dampness she felt there. It had certainly never been like _that_ before.

She closed her eyes, sweeping two fingers across the swollen nub she felt her breath quicken, the muscles in her stomach jump. She tried to recall the motions Danny had employed, both in her dream and reality. Yes, this was the elusive feeling she'd been after. Dropping her free hand to the side, she clutched at the edge of the leather cushion, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth as she concentrated. It took a surprisingly short amount of time for her reach that quivering point of no return, fingers rhythmically sweeping across the sensitive bundle of nerves (more than 8,000 if she remembered correctly), slipping off into the abyss almost unexpectedly, her whole body convulsing for a second, an accidental moan escaping her lips as she arched.

This time her eyes genuinely drifted shut, a dreamy smile on her lips as she floated like a feather back down to earth. It didn't seem possible to feel this relaxed yet rejuvenated. She was pleased to discover that she could do this for herself, that the fate of her sexual pleasure didn't lie in one man's hands, literally _or_ figuratively.

She withdrew her fingers, adjusting the waistband to a place of comfort once again, an unconscious smile playing at her lips. She had just tucked the blanket underneath her chin and resettled her foot against the arm of the chair when she heard the unmistakable sound of hinges creaking.

Danny stepped out into the living room, his pajama bottoms riding low on his hips, his tee shirt discarded some time in the past couple hours. Mindy's mouth felt dry as she stared at him in the half light, her heart picking up speed as he padded over to the couch. She quickly shut her eyes and affected a faint snore.

Peering down at her, he reached out and poked her in the shoulder. "Stop pretending. I know you're awake. I heard a noise out here. Was it you? Does your foot hurt?"

She was paralyzed, embarrassment burning her skin, she tucked her chin under the cover, hoping to hide the things that were no doubt written in her face. It felt futile, her recent pleasure seemed to be written on every exposed patch of skin.

He took her silent treatment differently than she expected. "Fine. I get it. The couch is uncomfortable. You can have the bed, ok? Get up."

She shook her head. "No, no, the couch is fine."

"Don't be passive aggressive, Mindy, it's unattractive."

"Fine!" She struggled to get herself upright, sliding around on the leather seat cushions. Danny reached down and grabbed her hand, his touch like fire sending another flush coursing through her as he hauled her to her feet. She didn't exactly have great balance to begin with, but she was decidedly off kilter tonight, and found herself clinging to Danny's bare shoulders for support. It was far too reminiscent of her dream and she released him quickly, as though he were on fire.

She slipped quietly into his room, only glancing back one time to watch him as he spread the blanket on the couch once more, his naked back to her as he shook out the material. The rest of the semester was going to be hell if images like this were permanently burned into her retina. Sighing, she shut the door behind her, slipping into his waiting bed. She tried not to think about where the heat still lingering in his sheets came from, burying her nose in the pillow that smelled like his after shave. Yes, it was going to be sheer hell.


	6. Ch 6

**A/N: thanks so much to everyone who has been reading and commenting. I do feel like the pacing of this story is a bit off, it'll probably speed up a bit after this chapter. Please feel free to let me know what you think.**

Snow. It was all he could see. The cars parked along his street merely lumps under a far reaching white blanket. Danny leaned closer to the window pane, a cold cushion of air emanating from its surface. It was a stark contrast to the steaming cup of hot coffee cradled in his hands. Not only were the drifts covering the cars and creeping up to the windows on his house, but it was still coming down, wind whipping it madly in little whirlwinds. He let out a long breath, fogging the glass.

The confluence of events that had led to this point were borderline fantastical. A string of coincidental happenings that Danny would have found suspect if there were any way at all he could blame the weather on an actual human being.

Andrew and Peter had begged him to tag along on their trip to upstate New York. The pair had taken off early Friday afternoon, skipping classes and piling into Peter's tiny hatchback. Danny had felt a tiny twinge of regret as he'd shaken his head, walking out the door on the way to Garibaldi's office, a stack of papers shoved into his messenger bag.

The memory of Mindy's eyes flashing angrily at him as she stormed out of his office was another thing that kept circling around. And now she was here, snowed in with him. Those very same eyes had sparkled with anticipation as she'd made the prediction that classes would be cancelled. 

Danny had inwardly scoffed at her hopeful tone, knowing the sheer amount of snow required to bring things to a standstill was near impossible this time of year. This wasn't some normally balmy city in the south, where a ten minute flurry could shut down civilization. This was New York, it would take several hours of a relentless blizzard to ruin anyone's day.

He brought his coffee to his lips, suppressing a smile he couldn’t find the source of, the hot liquid pooling in his stomach, it’s heat radiating outward. He tucked his free hand into the pocket of his hoodie, a safeguard against the cold creeping to the house.

He prayed the power wouldn’t go out. He could only imagine the ceaseless whining that would come from a cold Mindy. If her ankle weren’t injured, he would be tempted to bundle up and trudge back to campus with her in tow. Just to get her back to her dorm, and well out of his hair. Unfortunately that wasn’t even a remote possibility.

He turned away from the window, returning his attention to the mess scattered across the kitchen table. There were textbooks and loose papers sitting in crooked piles across it’s surface. Being snowed in by himself for a couple days wouldn’t have been a problem. He’d never admit it to a soul, but he was beginning to fall behind in a few of his classes, shouldering a little too much responsibility in his senior year. He told himself this was an opportunity disguised as an inconvenience, that Mindy’s presence wouldn’t change that.

But already he felt himself pulled away from the work in front of him, his feet taking him in the direction of his closed bedroom door. He knew she wouldn’t be awake this early. Seeing her at eight a.m. every Saturday for several weeks had clued him in to the fact that she very much was not a morning person. He smiled, recalling the way she desperately clutched her coffee as she walked through the door in the nick of time. It was an image he was greeted with nearly every week.

When he reached the bedroom door, he wasn’t entirely sure what his intention had been in the first place. It wasn’t like he was prepared to knock on it, wake the colorful little dynamo sleeping peacefully snuggled into his blankets. She would inevitably jump out of bed, demand coffee, and then proceed to gloat about her correct weather predictions, all the while not caring that it meant she was trapped here.

So he stood inches away from his bedroom door, awkwardly clutching his cup of coffee and staring at the oak paneling as if it were an ancient text he needed to decipher. He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to do, settling instead for turning his head slightly to listen. He heard the springs of his bed squeak slightly as she shifted, probably tossing and turning.

She seemed to be a fitful sleeper, if the previous night was any indication. Although, now that he thought about it, last night had been strange. The sounds pulling him from slumber hadn’t quite been what he would have associated with discomfort or even a bad dream. Instead the little whimpers had been vaguely familiar to him, triggering his curiosity. 

And she definitely had not been sleeping when he’d come out into the living room, her fake snores something directly out of a saturday morning cartoon. She’d been jumpy too, when he’d helped her off the couch, not looking directly at him, snatching her delicate hands away from his skin the moment they lighted there.

Danny’s eyes widened when his brain finally added his observations together, recalling the place he’d heard the sounds before. If that were the case… No, surely not. He reigned in his wild speculation, tabling the egomaniacal impulse to assume she’d been thinking of him and doing… that.

He shook his head, intending to turn away from the door, but his feet were like cinder blocks, heavy and immovable. He could feel the tingle of warmth along his skin, the heat radiating out as blood rushed to the surface, every sensation suddenly magnified tenfold. His heartbeat quickened, and he realized that he was getting turned on by the scene being carefully constructed in his mind.

He looked down at his fingers, already lightly tracing the doorknob. God, this was awful. It had to be because he’d already labeled her ‘off limits.’ Some juvenile compartment in his brain rebelling at the very idea. He jumped back guiltily as the doorknob began to turn of it’s own volition under his fingers.

The door swung open and a sleepy eyed Mindy was standing in front of him. A far off little voice in his head noted how she seemed to be much shorter than he remembered, almost tiny. She looked vulnerable tucked into his sweats, face free of makeup, hair wild and unkempt.

She didn’t stay that way for long, her nose detecting the unmistakable aroma of coffee. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she broke into a wide smile. “Ooh, coffee, thank god.”

Danny stood in stunned silence as she grabbed the mug from his hand, her eyes drifting shut to savor the aroma. Her assumption gave him a valid reason to be creeping outside the bedroom door, so he merely nodded.

Mug at her lips, she took a long sip. The pleasant expression on her face instantly disappeared, her lips twisting into a grimace. “Ick. Black? Gross. Who drinks coffee like this?”

Danny snatched his mug back, sloshing the slightly tepid coffee on his hand. “Real men drink their coffee black.”

“Do I look like a man to you?”

“What?! No. I didn’t.. That’ s not..” He sighed, giving up. “How do you like your coffee?”

“Two sugars, one cream, maybe a little cinnamon, or whatever they put in pumpkin spice lattes.” She pushed past him toward the kitchen. “Ooh, maybe some caramel syrup if you have any.” Her last suggestion was slightly muffled, her head already stuck in one of his cabinets, going through the dry goods arranged neatly in rows. She popped back out. “There’s nothing good in here, except a few boxes of really old looking sugar cubes. Let’s just go to Starbucks.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“Oh, I see. You’re one of those people who thinks Starbucks is like not as good as some local coffee shop. That’s fine, just take me there.”

He shook his head. “Nope, that’s not gonna happen either.”

She stared at him, perplexed. Rather than explain, he guided her to the kitchen sink, one hand resting gently at the small of her back. He pointed to the little window over the fixture. “No one’s going out in that.”

He got the expected reaction, confusion immediately washing away as unfiltered pleasure suffused her features. He could have just told her about the snow, but he’d instinctively known how much better this reaction would be.

“I was right!”

She leaned forward, placing one hand on his forearm to balance herself as she got up on her tiptoes. The slippery material of her socks lost traction almost immediately against the kitchen tiles, and Danny caught her. “You are such a klutz.” The words came out on an unexpectedly soft breath, the warmth of her in his arms wreaking havoc on Danny’s composure.

She slowly disentangled herself from his arms, brushing the hair from her face before she glared at him. “I’m quite graceful actually. You seem to bring the worst out in me.”

“I doubt that.”

She pulled away from him, opening and closing cabinets on a mission. Reaching the last one, she smiled, snatching up a clean coffee cup. “I’ll drink your disgusting old man coffee, with expired sugar cubes, but it’s under extreme protest.”

She poured herself a steaming mug, not taking her eyes off of him as she plopped three hard cubes into the liquid. She turned slowly away, holding the coffee cup in front of her, one pinkie out as she gingerly walked across the hardwood. Squaring her shoulders she made her way to the kitchen table. “I’m graceful as hell, and I have perfect posture.”

Danny followed close behind, snatching papers up off the table as she found a place for her mug. She set it down rather heavily, coffee splashing out into the empty spot where his work had been. He rolled his eyes. “You’re practically a ballerina.”

She ignored his sarcasm, turning her attention to the books scattered in front of her. There was an array of science volumes mixed in with the odd piece of literature. She shuffled through them, picking up various papers and discarding them as she went along. Danny felt the muscles in his back begin to tense up. There was a method to his disorganized jumble, and she was messing it all up. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Again, she ignored him. Her fingers catching the one paper he’d forgotten about. Shit. He hoped she would toss it along with the others, but her movements slowed as she read the cover page. “Danny, this is my paper, the one I shoved back in my bag before leaving your office.”

“I know.”

It wasn’t the response she’d been looking for. “And? Why do you have it?” Her eyes narrowed as she peered at him. “Did you go through my bag? How dare you invade my privacy!”

He pulled out a chair, adjacent to her side of the table. “Relax ok, I didn’t go through your bag. You practically threw it on the floor in the foyer, and all your stuff just spilled out. It just happened to be lying out in the open.”

“Mmmhmmm.” She was still dubious, arms crossed in front of her as she eyed him.

“And, our earlier conversation got me to thinking…” He trailed off, suddenly aware that this was what eating crow felt like. The muscles in his jaw worked as she tried to formulate a way to admit he was wrong. He pushed past his desire to have the upper hand and continued. “Maybe, just maybe, there were some personal feelings that got in the way of me grading your paper. I had to reread it to be sure.”

“Oh?” She already sounded smug, one eyebrow raised slightly, an evil little grin pulling at her cheeks. 

“Yes. And you were right, it’s not a C paper.”

“A-ha!” She pointed at him, leaning so far out of her chair that she nearly tumbled into the floor, but she caught herself, still waving her finger in his face. “I knew it!”

He was already shaking his head. “It’s not an A paper either, Mindy. It’s a solid B, ok?”

Sitting back in her chair, a little deflated, she picked up the paper and looked at it intently. “A solid B?” She closed her eyes, the thoughtful expression on her face disappearing, amusement taking it’s place. She let out an inelegant snort, the sound quickly morphing into helpless giggles. “A solid B!”

She started gasping between laughs, and it left Danny more than a little alarmed. He was clueless as to the cause of her amusement. He began to wonder if maybe he should have checked for a concussion the night before.

She dropped the paper, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of her eyes. “A solid B. Danny, that’s what the lady at Victoria Secret called my bra size when I tried to argue with her. Only in that case I wanted a C.”

Instinctively his eyes dropped to her chest, resting there for only a second before he reminded himself not to stare. She was crazy, ready to fly off the handle one minute, then gasping with laughter the next. He had no response for her latest revelation, feeling that perhaps anything he said would be the beginning of yet another uncomfortable conversation. He just waited for her to calm down, listening to her chuckles as she leaned back against the chair, taking deep breaths. 

“I can take a B, but you bet your ass the next paper will be an A.”

“I won’t be grading your next paper, Mindy.” Danny kicked himself. This was not a conversation he wanted to have right now, especially not while he was trapped with her in such close quarters.

“What? Why not?”

“Because you were right. I let whatever personal relationship I had with you get in the way of behaving ethically.” He swallowed, unsure of how she would react to his next declaration. “And I don’t think we should be… doing whatever it is we’re doing.” He gestured awkwardly between them.

“What are we doing?”

“You know, this… there’s a tension.”

“What tension?” Her tone of absolute innocence grated on his nerves.

"Don't play coy, I saw the way you looked at me last night. It was borderline lecherous."

She stood up abruptly, the ladder-back chair flying out behind her. Hands on the table, she leaned down to issue her rebuttal face to face. "I did no such thing. You're the one checking out my ass every time I walk away." She flipped her hair dramatically over one shoulder.

Her face was close to his, full lips parted and waiting only inches from his. She looked at him through her eyelashes, daring him to contradict her. Danny swallowed the lump in his throat, anticipation fluttering in his chest as he waited for her to make a move.

It only took a second, the air thick around them as they both stopped breathing. Mindy was the first to break, reaching forward to pull his face to hers. Her hands caressed the planes of his face, the tickle of stubble under her fingers sending a pleasant shiver through her. The kiss seemed desperate, both of them panting harshly as their lips locked. Danny rose from the chair, pulling her tightly to him, one hand slipping up beneath the hoodie she wore.

He swallowed the little moan that escaped her when his hand palmed her breast, her nipple puckering instantly under his touch. That was the final straw for Mindy. She pulled back, glancing around her quickly before turning to the table and dramatically sweeping the majority of its contents onto the floor.

The action broke Danny out of his lust filled daze, blinking as he surveyed the mess around them. He stepped back from her, hands up in front of him as though he needed to protect himself. “This is not happening.”

“What?” The glassy look in her eyes slowly disappeared, the harsh staccato of her breathing slowing as she registered his meaning. 

Danny blocked out the painful flash of embarrassment that so briefly colored Mindy’s features, stifling the urge to reach out and pull her back into his embrace. He steeled himself, settling his hands on his hips. "Look, you obviously want me, but that can't happen, so you just need to get over this fetish you have for unattainable men."

He knew it was a mistake the moment the words left his mouth, but it was impossible to call them back. The sting of her palm against his cheek came as no surprise, the force of her slap snapping his head to the right. Whatever contrition he felt was overpowered by his pride, a flush of anger overheating him.

She was trembling with anger as she spun away from him, dashing back to his bedroom, her injured ankle barely hampering her movement. He followed close behind, afraid that she would perhaps take her anger out on his possessions.

When he popped into the room at first he didn't see her, confusion outweighing his initial burst of irritation. Grunts coming from the direction of his closet drew his attention, his eyes landing on the pleasant curve of her ass as she bent over, the ass he’d so recently been clutching at desperately. He sighed. 

She was digging through the things in the bottom of his closet, tugging angrily at something he couldn't see. The mystery item pulled free, and she stumbled back, surprisingly righting herself almost immediately. She tugged on a pair of his boots, yanking roughly at the laces as she tied them up.

"What are you doing?"

She didn't answer him, pointedly ignoring is very presence. Boots laced up, she turned back to his closet, pulling his winter coat from the back. Threading her arms through it, she shoved past Danny, the heavy sound of his boots thumping as she crossed the threshold.

Danny followed her. "You're not going outside."

Lips pursed in a tight line of displeasure, she snatched her bag off the floor. One hand on the doorknob she stopped, and Danny let out a breath of relief, thinking perhaps she'd come to her senses. Maybe she could see that this was the right thing to do. It wasn’t just about their respective positions in the academic hierarchy. Anything between them was doomed from the outset. Danny was finished at the end of the semester. He’d soon be throwing himself into med school, and wouldn’t have time for anyone, let alone someone who seemed to thrive on being the center of attention. He could already feel the pull of her gravitational force, and he had to stop it before he got totally sucked in.

When she turned back around, her eyes didn't light on him, instead they were focused on the floor behind him.

"Mindy?"

Still no response, she blew past him, snatching her paper up off the floor and crumpling it in her fist as she shoved it into her bag. Turning back to the door, she swung it open and disappeared into the swirling snow.

"Mindy!"

\-----------------------------------------

Mindy made it about twenty feet before she regretted her decision to angrily storm out. She was adrift in a sea of white, snow already up to her knees as she struggled to make her way to the street. 

Her cheeks stung as the wind slapped at her, the burn intensified by the ice crystals as they buffeted her skin. The flannel of Danny's pajamas was almost instantly soaked through, sticking to her skin as she waded through the drifts.

Tucking her hands underneath her arms, she leaned forward, pushing against the force of the gale. Damn if it wasn’t cold as hell, the shearling lining of Danny’s coat doing little to keep her warm. She tugged the zipper up further before shoving her hands back into the pockets. Sure, she had no idea which direction she was actually headed, or even what direction she should be walking in, but she couldn't go back to Danny.

Anger had seemed to be primary emotion fueling her dramatic exit, but it had only been a thin cover for the wounded feeling his words had left. Her self confidence was real, and she always carried herself with pride, but his comment had poked at old insecurities. She hated how easily he'd cut her down to size, his arrogance deflating her completely.

She could still feel the flush of embarrassment making her ears hot, the queasy feeling in her stomach when he'd mentioned her apparent ogling. Her own accusation had been a shot in the dark, something she'd known other guys had done, but that she'd never actually caught Danny doing. His apparent physical attraction to her made the fact that he didn’t want her all the more upsetting.

The idea that this magnetic pull she felt was unrequited sent her hurtling straight back to high school, the mortification she'd felt when the boy she'd like had called her fat and laughed in her face. So, she'd lashed out physically, because she'd had nothing else.

She blinked away angry tears, clearing her blurry vision to look around her. Shit, everything was white, the snow falling more heavily than she'd ever experienced. How was it possible to get lost in less than five minutes? She threw her hands out in front of her, searching for something to latch onto. Her fingers found the cold metal surface of a car hood, calibrating her sense of direction somewhat.

The biggest flaw in her plan to walk back to campus soon became clear. She had no idea where Danny lived in relation to the university. Finding the street had been a useless endeavor.

Before she could turn around and march back to Danny in defeat, someone plowed into her from behind, arms wrapping around her waist as they both plunged into a snow drift.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: back finally! This chapter walked all over me and I ended up cutting several paragraphs of exposition and I'm still not happy with it, but at a certain point you just have to move on, and I've been informed that I'm overly critical sooooo... Here it is, please feel free to comment, it makes my day and I'm not ashamed to admit it.**

The storm door slammed in Danny's face, a sick feeling clenching in the pit of his stomach as Mindy disappeared from his view, a wall of white enveloping her. He hastily slipped on a pair of house shoes and dashed after her, but the feeling didn't abate, darting from his stomach to his throat, bile rising there unexpectedly. His melodramatic brain made horrendous comparisons to _The Little Match Girl_ as he followed the path she'd made, commanding his legs to pick up speed.

When he finally spotted her, she was at the street, body angled to the right as she began to turn. There was nothing much in that direction, just the entrance to the tiny park adjacent to his house. If she wandered through the gate he'd never catch up with her. He broke into an awkward run, stepping high as he maneuvered himself through the snow. He called out her name, but the wind was blowing hard, a whooshing noise blocking out the sound in his own ears, leaving little hope that she'd heard at all. He'd underestimated his velocity, the snow providing no traction as he tried to stop. His inertia dumped them both into the biggest snow bank he'd ever seen, their bodies making a huge dent in the mass.

She struggled out of their prison before he did, but she was going in the wrong direction, back to the street, probably still determined to walk all the way back to campus. Danny's jaw worked in irritation and came up behind her, spinning her around roughly before hauling her up over his shoulder.

She squirmed as he carried her like a sack of potatoes, letting out little grunts of exertion with each step, the adrenaline pumping through his veins the only thing making this heroic endeavor possible.

Reaching the door, he jerked it open with one free hand, his other arm banded none too gently across the back of Mindy's legs.

When he finally put her down his eyes darkened, boring into her with a blistering heat. She took a step back, her indignation evaporating like water flicked on a hot pan. Pleased with the reprieve from her typical commentary, Danny tugged her away from the doorway, ignoring the snow falling from her boots and puddling on the hardwood floor as it melted. The glass panes rattled in their housings as he slammed the door shut. "Are you insane?"

"Of course not! I was about to turn around, and then you bowled me over like a… like a… God, I can't even think of a good simile with you staring at me like that. There's this bulging vein at your temple, and you look like you're about to blow a gasket."

So much for a reprieve. He whirled away from her, looking at the floor as he took deep breaths. Whether he was pawing at her like a lust filled frat boy or arguing with her about whether or not it was fair to grade on a curve, there were no half measures with her. This little tableu was just another example of that. She sent his blood pressure skyrocketing and his adrenal glands into overdrive. If he had to deal with this much longer, he'd start going gray.

He dusted the resulting snow from his shoulders, running the fingers of one hand through his hair in frustration. There was something pulling at him, a tugging beneath his rib cage as he looked at her. She was sopping wet in his doorway, wide eyed as she watched him. The tugging got worse, affecting his ability to breathe, a matching sensation zipping through his fingertips. Tugging toward her.

Tamping down the urge to give in to this strange feeling, he shut his mouth and dropped his hands to his side. Without a word he turned on his heel and marched toward the bathroom, hoping she would just have good sense for once and follow him without question. She did.

"How do you not have a hair dryer?"

He paused to give her a withering look before turning back to the mirror, wiping the remaining moisture off his neck with the hand towel. Evidently he didn't feel as if her question merited a response.

Mindy continued to pat at her hair with the threadbare towel. Typical, how on earth did men even find towels like this? Were there pre-distressed man-towels on sale at Spencer's? She snuck a glance at Danny in the mirror, noting that his short hair wasn't even damp any more. The fringe at his ears curled slightly as it had dried. He had a point. "Sorry, I just... maybe as a courtesy to the many women you kidnap and hold hostage you should keep one on hand. Just a thought."

Danny carefully hung his own towel on the peg and walked silently from the bathroom. Mindy rolled her eyes. What a drama queen, couldn't even take a little joke. She shut the door behind him and shucked off her wet clothes. Peering at herself in the mirror, she took a quick catalogue of her appearance. Her hair was a disaster beyond contemplating, having suffered the abuse of less than ideal hair products and undue exposure to moisture. It was a wavy mess.

She twirled a lock around one finger, pulling at it tightly in the hopes that she could reconstitute some kind of shape. As soon as she released it, it sprung back to her shoulder in a fluffy poof. Whatever, it wasn't as if there was anyone here to impress. Her eyes traveled across her body, doing the typical mirror gazing normally reserved for her post shower inspection. She smoothed her hands over her hips, turning slightly to pose, a little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Her fingers dropped to her hip, tracing along a barely noticeable dark mark, the bruise faintly spreading along her skin. Danny had left it there when he hauled her up, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She'd kicked at the air, trying to wiggle her way to freedom, but he'd only tightened the arm banding across the back of her legs as he marched laboriously back to the house.

She scoffed. That certainly wasn't how she'd pictured the first time a man carried her across a threshold. Her future fire-fighter husband was supposed to cradle her in his impossibly muscular arms as though she weighed nothing, maybe playfully jostling her as they entered their mansion for the first time as man and wife. She'd certainly never imagined someone huffing like he'd just run a marathon as she hung upside down behind his back staring at his ass (it wasn't a bad view, but come on man).

She'd honestly been surprised he'd managed it at all. For a shorter man, there certainly seemed to be a lot of tightly coiled energy packed into is smaller frame. Not that she found his stature displeasing, in fact she'd begun to think they could fit together quite nicely. If he would just stop being a dick.

She shivered as an unexpected draft wafted under the door, setting gooseflesh chasing across her skin. That was another little rom com induced fantasy Danny seemed intent on ruining for her. Snowed in. It was something she'd thought about in the past, a golden little day dream she'd indulged in when bored. She'd be up in the mountains with a hunky ski instructor, trapped in a one room cabin with only the heat of their bodies and a sensually crackling fire to keep them alive… something like that. Definitely not this. The most she could hope for tonight was Danny glaring at her from across the room while they studied their respective anatomy textbooks in silence.

Her hands drifted to the curve of her belly, stomach rumbling under her fingertips. God, she was starving too. Her recent perusal of Danny's pantry had confirmed her worst suspicions. He had well stocked shelves of healthy fibrous staples, and not a single sugar-coated-anything in sight. She was certain she'd starve to death if she was trapped here more than one day, her only sustenance shredded wheat and dried out sugar cubes.

She picked up the towel again, patting at her damp skin, collecting that last bit of moisture clinging to her. Her hands stilled at her breasts, the towel falling forgotten to the floor. She palmed herself, nipples hard against the soft skin of her hands. She felt the usual dissatisfaction with their smaller than average mass, only this time it was tempered by the tickling little growl she'd felt against her lips when Danny's hand had lit here. She involuntarily compared the feel of her own soft fingers to that of Danny's coarser ones. His hands were surprisingly large, completely enveloping her breast as he'd squeezed gently at it. The memory sent an electric current running from her nipple to the apex of her thighs, the two unexpectedly connected.

God, why had that idiot ruined everything? She dropped her hands and retrieved the towel from the floor.

* * *

He grunted, cracking an egg with more force than necessary against the metal mixing bowl, gaining a small satisfaction as the yolk busted against the bottom of the dish. He snatched up the metal whisk and went to work, trying like hell to take his mind of the undoubtedly naked woman dallying in his bathroom… for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

Danny had been giving her the silent treatment since he'd dragged her back across the threshold. Not that she'd noticed. Not that she paused with her little jokes. Not that she seemed to need to hear the sound of anything but her own voice.

She could have died, and she was quipping about hairdryers and kidnappings. Danny flicked his wrist, and the whisk in his hand made a singing noise against the edge of the mixing bowl. These eggs would have more air whipped into them than the fluffiest soufflé he'd ever made.

He stopped, leaning against the counter as the blinding rush of panic-stricken endorphins began to ebb. It had carried him back to the house, Mindy in tow, but now it was abating and with it's absence a return to clear thinking. So, she probably wouldn't have died. He didn't really know why his mind automatically jumped to things like that, or why it was so obvious now that she probably hadn't been headed down the street, but rather she'd mostly likely been turning back toward the house.

He winced as the realization settled over him. Carefully pouring the beaten eggs into the waiting skillet, he implemented a swirling motion, coating the bottom of the pan. The proteins immediately began to denature, transparent liquid becoming opaque. Cooking was calming for him, it set him back on an even plane while his mind tried to sift through the mess he'd made.

He dragged a fork through the eggs, using the tines to fluff them up into a perfect scramble before depositing them on a plate next to two slices of whole wheat toast. Cracking two new eggs, he began the whole process again. He hadn't bothered to ask Mindy how she liked hers. No one had ever taken issue with his scramble, so she undoubtedly would, but he didn't really care all that much. She wouldn't starve.

A faint noise coming from the direction of his bedroom caught his attention, his ears pricking as he paused a the stove. So, she was in his room again, hands probably all over everything he owned. He tensed up, shoulders tightening as he imagined his privacy in shambles. He rolled his neck, telling himself she was just a naturally inquisitive person. It wasn't like he'd never noticed her curiosity. She was always the first person to pipe up with surprisingly insightful questions in class. Everything seemed to be a puzzle she would go any length to solve.

That's when it clicked for him. A realization that made his heart sink, chest filled with disappointment. Her persistence, her curiosity, it was merely because he was an enigma to her. His closemouthed nature only adding to the mystery. Her preoccupation would wane once she'd gleaned enough information. It made perfect sense.

The thought set his teeth on edge, breaking up the congealing eggs in the pan with more force than necessary. He could see now that it meant nothing, and he couldn't trust the release of tightly coiled tension each time she pried something loose. It was just a part of whatever little game she played. He wanted to hate it, but he was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Moths who flew into flames didn't survive.

He felt more sure than ever that his decision to halt things was correct. She was bound to lose interest in him when she finally unravelled the mystery of the grouchy TA. It was better that it not devolve into a messy relationship in the mean time.

He turned to the second plate, depositing the result of his efforts beside another two slices of toast before taking both dishes to the kitchen table. No need to clear the surface, Mindy had done that for him already, the result of her efforts still scattered across the floor. In spite of the warring motivations inside of him, Danny's expression softened, an amused little grin pulling at him before he turned back to the kitchen.

* * *

"Oh, my god, these are so good." She was talking with her mouth full, fork spearing another helping of eggs before she could finish the first bite. "I thought you were gonna make me eat shredded wheat until the snow melted. I can't believe you can cook."

Danny looked at her from across the table, sitting as far as possible from her. It was a pointless endeavor, the little round surface barely putting three feet between them. "It's only scrambled eggs." Remembering his epiphany, he consciously added, "I'm Italian, I like to cook."

She shrugged, focusing on the plate in front her. Picking up her toast, she reached for the strawberry jam he'd set in front of her plate and spooned out a huge gelatinous glob onto one slice, the already melted butter sliding around under it. Taking a bite, she spoke with her mouth full. "I hate cooking."

"What? Why?"

A dab of jam smeared across her lower lip and she flicked it away with her tongue. "I don't know, really, it's just so stressful to me. Nothing I make ever looks like the pictures on Pinterest."

"On what?"

Swallowing a large gulp of orange juice, she shook her head. "Nevermind. I wouldn't even know how to begin to explain Pinterest to a man that still has a flip phone." She forked the last of her scrambled eggs and popped them into her mouth, savoring the buttery flavor, a little satisfied 'mmm' eking out.

Danny's own plate was basically untouched, his attention being severely distracted by the person sitting across from him. She took such pleasure in the food in front of her, really using all of her senses to appreciate everything. He'd never seen anyone sit down and take such care to enjoy each little bite.

And she wasn't quiet about her enjoyment either, throwing around compliments freely, making almost obscene noises when she found something particularly tasty. He wondered if she was like this with everything, all five senses fully engaged at every moment. He watched as she sat back in his chair, patting her stomach appreciatively. Her fingers dragged across the distorted face of Bruce Springsteen. He hadn't see that particular tee in a while.

It never failed to strike a strange chord within him each time his eyes took in her choice of clothing. That shirt had been hanging at the back of his closet. She must have gone through nearly everything before tugging it off the hanger, pairing it with an old pair of college sweats. The ease with which she floated through his private space unsettled him. He wondered if she'd seen the lone dress tucked between his chinos. Probably not, she definitely would have said something.

Her hands were suddenly waving in front of her. "Hello, earth to Danny?"

"Huh?"

"I said, maybe you can teach me to cook something." She peered at him, a tentatively sweet smile playing across her lips.

For the first time since he'd known her she seemed utterly guileless. The open expression made him feel exposed, as though her willingness to be genuine with him were triggering a similar response. "I, uh, maybe… teaching's not really my thing."

She tilted her head thoughtfully. "It's not? Then why are you doing the T.A. thing?"

He answered before thinking. "I kind of have to, my tuition gets waived if I do the job, and Garibaldi's not a bad guy."

"Your tuition?"

This was the perfect opportunity to spill his guts to her, lament about his less than ideal childhood. It's what she'd been digging for wasn't it? Maybe if she got what she was looking for she'd lay off a little. "Yeah, not everyone has mommy and daddy to pay for tuition and books."

She frowned, and he caught the apology forming on his lips. What was there to apologize for? He dug into his eggs, looking down while she thought about his words. There were two possible reactions here. She could get indignant about him basically calling her spoiled, or she would slather on the sympathy for poor little Danny Castellano and his broken home.

"Puh-lease, you didn't spring from the earth fully formed. You have parents."

"Parent. Singular."

"Oh." The single syllable landed softly on his ears. There it was. Danny regretted this conversation almost immediately. He looked up at her expecting to see an overly saccharine expression of sympathy on her features, but she merely looked at him, her temporary contrition giving way to frank curiosity. "Someone died?"

Her voice actually wobbled on the last word, the consonants catching in her throat. She tried to cover it with a sip of orange juice and he found himself wanting to reach out and brush the back of her knuckles with his fingertips. He blinked. Why was she the one that needed to be comforted? Coughing, he cleared the lump in his throat. "Might as well have."

Her mouth dropped open. "That's awful, Danny."

He shifted uncomfortably, dragging his silverware through the uneaten food on his plate. Her chastising tone surprised him. He began to elaborate defensively. "He left in the middle of the night like a coward ten years ago." He sighed. "It's not important."

She shook her head vehemently. "Of course it's important. Have you confronted him, or talked to him at all about it?"

"I don't even know where he is, really. There were letters at first, and they just sort of… petered off."

He steeled himself for naive suggestions, perhaps even an attempt to empathize with something she'd never had to deal with. It was always what people did when anyone talked about this kind of thing. He kind of hated it.

"Well, that sucks."

In spite of the surprisingly heavy turn of their conversation, Danny felt the corner of his mouth twitch up. She'd hit a nerve that was sure, but she knew when to let things lie. Even though they hadn't had some kind of philosophical discussion, he felt the chamber around his heart decompress a little. "Yeah. It is what it is. I'm not much worse for wear." He shored up the unstable walls around him, reverting back his usual mantra. "I'm okay."

"You are?"

He shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable with her continued probing. "I'm always okay."

She got up from her seat and collected their dishes, glancing back at his pleasantly surprised expression. "What? You cooked, I'll clean. That's how it works isn't it? It's not fair for one person to do it all. Plus, cramming stuff down a garbage disposal is kind of my forte in the kitchen."

He watched her, grateful for the open floor plan of the house. She looked so at home there standing in front of the sink, the yellow light of the low hanging light fixture reflecting off the soft waves of hair. In spite of her declarations that cooking wasn't for her, he was sure he could show her a thing or two. She hummed while she washed the plates, shuffling her sock clad feet against the tile as she shimmied to an imaginary beat. Where did she find all the happiness?

"Movies." Her high pitched voice sailed through the air, a strangely specific answer to a rather broad question.

Danny blinked rapidly. Had he asked that out loud? His eardrums hadn't vibrated with the sound of his voice. "Huh?"

"We should have a movie marathon or something. There's nothing else to do. Have any good ones?" She turned back to him, hands sweeping a kitchen towel in circular motions as she dried one of the plates.

"I think I can find something."

"Good."


	8. Chapter 8

They spent the better part of the day watching various romantic comedies and heartbreaking dramas on Netflix (Peter's subscription, not Danny's), Mindy vetoing nearly every suggestion Danny made. To be fair, he hadn't really expected her to agree to watching _The Hunt For Red October_ , and wasn't surprised when she objected to it, articulating her lack of interest with an eyeroll and disparaging remark about Tom Clancy.

They took a short break to work quietly, finding that their dedication to education was surprisingly aligned. Danny marveled at the classload she'd shouldered, although he shouldn't have. Garibaldi's class was technically a senior level, and somehow she'd not only gotten into it, but for the most part excelled. He caught himself watching her in fascination as she poured over her textbook, a tiny wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows as she pondered something.

The snowstorm had abated, leaving a cold gray sky and more snow than Danny had ever seen piled up around the house. She sat by the window. The muted illumination reflecting off the mounds of snow cast her figure in stark clarity. This side of her surprised him. She was so focused and quiet, and yet he was keenly aware of her presence.

After a while, the not so quiet rumblings of their stomachs forced them back into a kitchen to a quick lunch composed of hastily thrown together sandwiches (a specialty of Danny's it seemed), leaving them pleasantly sated.

Mindy made her way back to the couch, patting the cushion beside her emphatically. "Come on, it's time to watch the best movie ever made."

Fascinated to see which film she referred to, Danny dropped down beside her wordlessly, a faint little chuckle breaking the surface when he saw the opening scene.

Mindy had felt strangely at ease with him since their conversation at the kitchen table, the high-volume tense nature of most of their previous interactions seeming to fall away, a pleasantly soft atmosphere left in its place. If she hadn't been so enthralled with the scenes playing out before them, Mindy would have noticed Danny's attention wasn't on the snappy dialogue, or the palpably warm cinematography, but rather the dreamlike expressions flitting across her face. She stared at the screen with stars in her eyes as she mouthed the words, lost in the moment.

Her rapt attention fascinated him, and he found himself fighting the desire to reach across the short space between them and kiss her senseless. He crossed his arms, tucking his hands in to keep them under control. An entire day spent in this hazy alternate reality and Danny was beginning to feel a little stir crazy. The persistent hum of sexual tension crackled in the air anytime they were near each other. Only a day ago, he'd convinced himself that she was irritating, that whatever he felt was purely physical. Today had sorely tested that theory, and here he sat, craving a bit of the fire he knew was still hidden right beneath the surface, finding that he was attracted even to the things he'd so recently jotted in her cons column.

His eyes darted to the screen to see what she found so incredibly enthralling. Billy Crystal was dashing through the streets, desperation written all over his face. The swelling romantic music finally pushed him over the edge. "Who would actually do that?"

Her head immediately snapped around to him, eyes narrowing as she mentally dared him to continue this train of thought. He felt a little flutter of anticipation in his chest, turning away from her gaze. He focused instead on the big screen. "Billy, don't run. It's New Year's, go out and get laid, man."

The look of disgust that swept across her features was nothing less than what Danny expected, pupils dilating as she ramped up. Desire kicked him in the gut and shifted uncomfortably beside her.

"Are you kidding me? What is wrong with you?"

"What? I'm on her side too. She's got plans, and they don't include this bozo interrupting her New Year's Eve. If I was her, I'd be like 'Look Buddy, I'm just trying to party with my friends and kiss some strangers at midnight.' She's not home alone pining for some jerk."

One hand flew up to stem his flow of words, a derisive snort sounding out. "Never speak for Meg Ryan ever again." Gearing up for what was clearly going to be a speech, she took a deep cleansing breath before continuing. "He's clearly in love with her. Why would he do something disgusting like go out and screw some strange woman when Meg 'Most Adorable Human Being Alive' Ryan is waiting for him? Running through the streets of New York to get to her is perhaps the grandest romantic gesture ever conceived."

"It's not realistic at all."

"Ugh, Danny, grand romantic gestures aren't supposed to be realistic." She threw her hands up dramatically, eyes cast upwards to the ceiling. "I don't know what I expected from someone who hooks up with rando chicks at frat parties."

He laughed. "That was _you!_ "

"Oh. Right…" She snorted, fighting against the involuntary smile tugging at her cheeks. She wanted to maintain her righteous indignation, but found it hard to resist the novel sparkle she read in his eyes. He was flirting with her, wasn't he? Her heart knocked against her chest, doing a quick little skip as she tried to read him.

He continued, employing a half cocked crooked little grin that should have been illegal. "Right. You're not Sally, but then again, no one is."

"Then who am I, Danny? If life were a Nora Ephron movie-"

"It isn't."

"- which of her multidimensional and timeless characters would I be?"

"The lady in the restaurant."

His half smile burgeoned into a full on grin, a playful look on his face that she'd never seen before. It melted her insides a little, all her organs turning to hot cider and pooling in the pit of her stomach.

Blinking, she registered his his answer. "What?!" She shoved at him. "I am not Rob Reiner's mother!"

"Let's just say, I feel like you and the lady in the restaurant share certain... appetites."

She blushed hotly, feeling suddenly self conscious about the position of her hands still resting against his shoulder. Snatching her fingers away abruptly, she turned back to the tv, wondering at the way she became tongue tied. She hated this. Confronted with actual flirtation her mind went blank. She made a mental note to watch _Legally Blonde_ again when she finally got back to her place. She could stand to follow the example so bravely set by Elle Woods. The 'Bend and Snap' may have been a little too obvious, but the philosophy behind it was worth pondering, fictional character or not.

The strains of _Auld Lang Syne_ filtered through the air, pulling her out of her own mind. "Look, you missed the best part, and it's your loss because you could really use some pointers on how to talk to women. You suck at it."

He shrugged, relaxing to the cushions, arms stretched along the back of the couch. There was the smug little smile again. "I do alright."

Mindy gave him an unsubtle once over. Of course he did alright. He probably did more than alright, confidence oozing from his every pore as he sat in a position perfect for displaying those ridiculous arms. She forced herself to turn away. "Keep telling yourself that."

Credits rolled, the room around them dimming as the short winter day came to a close. Danny watched her as she stared wistfully at the screen, the glow reflected in the square lenses of her glasses, missing the warm banter even as it faded away.

He snatched the remote out of her hand. "Alright, I pick the next movie, no arguments."

It was warm under the shared blanket. The smooth leather cushions absorbing their flannel-clad body heat was a pleasant contrast to the chill in the air.

With every snap of a twig, every hoot of an offscreen owl, Mindy jumped nervously at his side. He could feel her tensing as the protagonist wandered away from the lone farm house, limping into the dark woods as he tried to escape. Mindy became chattier and chattier as the suspense amped up. "The woods? There's a car right there, Danny! And his ankle is sprained! Turn around, you idiot!"

The musical score employed a long drawn out note, ratcheting up the tension. A dark figure appeared silhouetted in the light of the porch, unhurriedly following the hapless victim. Mindy unconsciously scooted closer, eyes glued to the screen in spite of every cell in her body telling her to look away. "He should be dead, they stabbed him like twelve times, it's not medically possible. If anything his kidneys are lacerated. He should be bleeding out, not chasing that poor stupid man through the woods."

The soon to be murdered idiot continued to stumble through the densely packed forrest, darkness fully enveloping him as clouds covered the previously helpful full moon, fog rolling in across the bottom of the screen. Harsh breathing echoed through the speakers on either side of the TV, and Danny could hear a matching cadence in her hastily drawn in breaths as she sat snuggled up against him.

A noise came from behind the couch, a loud thump that sent Mindy jumping out of her skin. She lunged toward him, closing the final few inches between them to bury her face in his chest, arms threading under his own as she tried to draw him closer for protection.

He didn't know how to react at first, surprised at the abrupt shift in position. He was torn between the urge to relax into her embrace and push her gently away. She took the choice away from him by tightening her grip painfully.

"There's someone else here." She whispered the declaration frantically into his ear, her hot breath tickling against his neck. Danny felt the now familiar zing of desire dart through his limbs, his arms obeying his baser instincts as they curled around her.

He frowned, trying to focus on her words. "What?"

Gulping audibly, she leaned closer to whisper again. "Behind the couch."

The tension broke loose, and Danny felt laughter bubbling up in his chest. "Mindy, Pete has a very expensive surround sound system." He didn't add that his roommate liked to watch porn on it and that Danny had on more than one occasion stormed angrily out into the living room to yank the power cords out of the wall.

Her grip loosened, the fingers of her right hand no longer digging into the muscles of his bicep as she pulled away. She looked sheepish, casting her eyes to the side in embarrassment. Danny felt cold, a quick shiver skimming across his skin as she widened the space between them.

The quiet came unexpectedly, orchestral horror music fading away, the only sound between them the shallow breathing whispering against the speakers as the doomed leading man hunkered in the shadow of an impossibly large tree. Mindy jerked unexpectedly, a quick double pulsing buzz interrupting their strange staring contest.

She looked relieved by the distraction as she slipped her hand into the front pocket of her hoodie. Tapping the screen of her phone, she scrolled through her texts, astonished to discover half a dozen messages from an supremely apologetic and worried Brendan Deslaurier.

_Mindy, I think I may have been a bit insensitive._

_Please don't be mad at me. You're one of the few people whose inner light so unabashedly matches their outer appearance. That transparency is invaluable._

She could hear the false ring, his insult couched in a carefully worded backhanded compliment.

_Mindy?_

Apparently employing an oft suggested dating tactic worked on Brendan. Too bad she'd never been able to let a text message go unanswered in the past. This bit of information could have changed the entire trajectory of her dating life

_I regret not walking you home, various undesirable scenarios are beginning to play out in my head as my messages go unanswered._

She glanced at the corner of her screen, the service here was apparently terrible. A little smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she got to the most recent one, sent only fifteen minutes ago.

_Mindy, please call me and at least let me know you're ok._

Better late than never, she supposed, a sense of vindication permeating her. Brendan Deslaurier could pretend to be casual all he wanted, but she was sure there were some definite feelings under his blasé attitude. What was with the men in this city? They were so emotionally constipated. She tapped out a lengthy message, reiterating her status as an independant woman who could take care of herself, ignoring the fact that Danny had been technically taking care of her for the past day and a half, clothing her, feeding her, washing weapons-grade pepper spray out of her eyes. (That was beside the point).

"Writing a novel?"

Her head popped up to find Danny staring at her curiously, his lips parted as if he had something more to add. She waited. When nothing came, she turned back to her phone, absentmindedly answering his question. "No, just a dissertation on why I'm so awesome, and how it's no surprise that crystal-wielding granola-heads worship the ground I walk on."

"Brendan?" Danny felt anger tremble through him, even though he was one hundred percent aware that he had no right to it. He tamped down the urge to gesticulate dramatically while he ticked off the reasons she shouldn't forgive the bastard. He shut his mouth, a scowl dropping down over his face.

"Yup. Poor guy will be following me around like a puppy as soon as he sees me again." She seemed satisfied with herself, a half smile settling on her lips as she glanced back at the TV, terror completely forgotten as she watched the pathetic soul on the screen get hacked to pieces. "Hey, Danny…"

He looked up, traitorous hope swelling in his chest at her inquisitive tone. "Yeah…" He held his breath, waiting for it… whatever _it_ was.

She smiled. "I'm gonna grab something to drink. You want anything while I'm up?"

The bottom dropped out of his stomach, and he just stared at her. Eventually he managed to nod and choke out the word 'water.'

She rose from the couch and skipped into the kitchen, bouncing on her heels as she hummed a jaunty little tune. With each step she took away from him, he felt little threads of contact tugging him to go after her, each one snapping painfully as he remained still. The phantom draft from earlier swept over him again, gooseflesh popping up across his skin as his mind tried in vain to grasp at the thing he was losing.

He frantically grasped at the retreating threads as they floated away, his feet slapping against the jarringly cold hardwood. He strode determinedly toward the kitchen. She was standing at the fridge, door open as she contemplated her choices inside. She'd already plucked out a bottle of springwater, holding it to her chest as the glow of the fridge light illuminated a halo around her.

"Danny, is that gooseberry beer in the ba-"

Her last word was cut off, punctuated by the sound of the water bottle smacking against the kitchen tile. Danny's lips were on hers, the minty flavor of his tongue playing against her own as he kissed her firmly. He pulled away, staring deeply into her eyes as his hands caressed her cheeks, the touch featherlight and tentative. He swallowed, not bothering to hide the vulnerability so clearly etched into his features. "I know what I said before, and I probably shouldn't have done this, but I'm... I like you."

She stared at him, seemingly in shock, her eyes wide as saucers. Pushing past the feeling that he'd made a huge miscalculation, he continued. "I'll count to three, ok, and if you don't say anything I'll turn around and pretend this never happened."

She continued to peer at him like she'd never seen him before, lips parted slightly.

"One…"

Her eyes scanned his face for clues as to what the hell he could possibly be thinking.

"Two…"

She could feel the heat of his fingers seeping into her skin, mingling with the temperature of her blush as it raced across her skin, his thumb reverently tracing the line of her cheekbone.

"Three…"

Her eyes darted down to his throat, noting the force with which his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. She got lost in the texture of his skin, the slight stubble along his jaw, pupils dilating. She still couldn't say anything, for the first time in her life at a total loss for words. Something still held her back, keeping her from grabbing greedily at what she really wanted.

"Four?"

How could he sound like that? Hopeful and scared and yet confident that all he needed was one more chance. Her eyes crinkled, a slow smile spreading across her face as heat radiated out from her middle. She nodded at him, reaching forward to touch the skin she'd been devouring with her eyes.

The second kiss was deeper, pulling heat up through her very center, nerve endings tingling as his hands desperately roved across her body. He cupped her ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he pulled her closer to him, finding it impossible to achieve the proximity he truly wanted.

He felt her stretch upwards on the tips of her toes, seeking more. It was the only signal he needed, he dragged her toward his bedroom, pausing every few feet to thread his fingers through her hair and sink into a deep kiss.

**A/N: Finally! After a while with absolutely no urge to write, suddenly it reappears (Why does it always feel like it's never going to come back?) I've finally landed on a real outline for this story, and I really like it. Hope you enjoy this chapter. I've got about 1800 words written of the next one, so hopefully that'll be up in a couple days or so. You're comments give me life, and I do think they help with my motivation, so feel free to say whatever you like.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. I did have something written after I finished the last chapter, but I didn't like it so I scrapped it and wrote this instead. Thanks so much to the ever patient three people that I forced to read this many times. As always, I really appreciate hearing what anyone has to say, comments and reviews mean the world to me. Merry Christmas!**

Mindy tried to concentrate on the space around her, to make note of the pale moonlight bouncing off the snow and casting the room in a bluish haze. She valiantly endeavored to record the sounds landing like a melody on her ears, the hum of the fan spinning lazily above, the muffled sound of whatever still played in the living room.

She whimpered when it seemed impossible to activate the part of her brain she used when studying, the zone of gray matter that stored the most minute information. She desperately needed to remember all the little details, like the texture of his sheets slipping against her skin as he dragged her to him or the softness of the mattress as it gave beneath their weight. But it was impossible to catalogue these sensations when all she could hold onto was the feel of his hands drifting over her body, fingers digging into her soft flesh as his lips sucked hungrily at her skin. 

She tried to remember how the air smelled faintly of cologne and fabric softener, how there was even an inexplicable hint of woodsmoke underneath those more obvious notes. But how could she possibly concentrate on such things when the scent of his skin completely enveloped her, the pleasant tang of fresh clean sweat triggering a surprisingly anticipatory response in her?

Her entire world seemed to narrow, all five senses honing in on one thing, one being. She whimpered in frustration when he released her lips, her own hands clutching desperately at his shoulders as he moved down between her legs, his fingers tracing feather light circles on the sensitive skin of her knees. She felt like a map, Danny marking all the roads on her body as he traveled across it, placing gentle kisses at all the most important landmarks.

So awash was she in the sensations enveloping her, that the feel of his lithe fingers dipping dexterously into her came as a pleasant surprise, a hoarse yell sounding out when his thumb circled her swollen clit. She gasped out a short giggle, suddenly aware that whatever she'd felt in her dream could only ever be a pale imitation of what was about to happen.

Her thoughts were washed away by a rolling wave of pleasure traveling like a tsunami from the epicenter between her legs to the tips of her toes and the top of her head. Not quite cresting, it muted the part of her brain responsible for language, turning even her constant inner monologue into a mess akin to alphabet soup. Clutching at the edge of the mattress, she moaned desperately, arching her hips toward him in search of an undefined higher level.

As if reading her mind, Danny dipped his head down, kissing the impossibly soft skin of her inner thighs, teasing as he got closer and closer to the source of her need. She was flooded with sudden clarity. The previously unattainable details of everything around her were cast into stark detail, muted colors suddenly vibrant to her dilated pupils, unique scents by the hundreds invading her sensitive nose. Nerve endings sparked at each point of contact, electrical currents chasing along the surface of her skin. She'd once read how ecstasy affects the body, and yet this seemed more potent than anything a drug could possibly induce.

But even that was cast into oblivion the moment his tongue delved into the slippery arousal between her thighs, the agile muscle probing against her delicate folds. When the flat of his tongue swept against the plump little nub waiting for him, wet heat meeting wet heat, she began to quiver beneath him, the muscles of her abdomen jumping involuntarily at each pass.

The very last of reality fell away as he drew her between his lips, tongue lapping at the underside of her clit. The suction he applied was the final straw, a strangled gasp tearing out to echo against the walls. She couldn't have said where she was or how she'd come to be there, eyes squeezed shut as infinite colors exploded behind her ocular nerve, every muscle in her body spasming as her hips arched toward Danny.

A rumbling chuckle vibrated against her, the blood pounding in her ears blocking out the deep sound. She felt the heat of his skin slipping along hers as he crawled up her length, again marking his path with half a dozen lingering kisses, tasting the saltiness of her damp skin.

Her chest rose and fell almost violently as she tried to catch her breath, legs instinctively curling around his hips. As impossible as it seemed, she ached for something different, to feel him inside of her as the spasms of pleasure shuddered through her. Between harsh breaths she said, "You better have a condom this time."

He chuckled, the sound becoming a part of her when he pressed up close. Now she could pack away details for her memory bank, memorizing the deep tone tickling against her skin as the hot breaths puffed out. She'd never forget the feel of the planes his chest pressed up against her, the perfect amount of hair abrading her nipples as he leaned forward to kiss her. This time she was able to pick out the flavors dancing against her tongue as he delved into her mouth, a faint almost forgotten mintiness underneath the surprisingly pleasant musk of her own flavor.

She blushed at the thought, closing her eyes in an uncharacteristic moment of bashfulness as he pulled away from her. He shifted, leaning toward the side of the bed. An unexpected flood of light filtered through her eyelids and sent them flying open, arms involuntarily crossing over her heart.

She felt exposed, a twinge of insecurity ghosting through her as she watched him search through his bedside drawer. He didn't notice her shift in body language, the muscles of his shoulders taut as he strained to reach the thing he was looking for.

This insecurity she felt was nothing new. Every line of his body seemed to be Michelangelesque in its perfection, the contours of the muscles finely delineated like calculated strokes under the sculptor's chisel. She couldn't see it now, but her fingertips still retained the memory of when she'd traced along his spine, dipping down until she'd palmed his firm glutes. The tightly coiled energy between her thighs pulsed through him as he shifted atop her.

He was saying something, amusement playing at the edges of his voice as he turned back to her, eyes sparkling mischievously, but the words stopped abruptly when his eyes lit on her face again. "Mindy?"

She bit her bottom lip, the urge to cry washing over her with no explanation. "Can you, uh... turn off the light?"

She could see the question forming, lips twisting to form the letter "w" as confusion swept across his face. But just as the word began to form, his perplexion faded away, replaced by a soft look of understanding.

"Mindy..."

She couldn't face it. Turning her head, she tried to focus on the shadows cast against the far wall, shapes amorphous and nothing like their sources. She tucked her chin down against her chest while she waited.

"Please look at me."

She steeled herself, attempting to dip down into her reservoir of confidence so she could get through this, but the well was dry and her eyes remained fixed to the wall.

The warmth of his touch against her cheek sent a shiver down her spine, a tingling sensation buzzing through her limbs. Mouth dry with desire, she turned back to him, wishing she could explain the way she felt. "Danny... Maybe if... I looked differently... I could do that... but I just can't."

"Min..."

The last of her defenses crumbled at the sound of the diminutive soft on his lips, infused with affection. This time she really looked at him, his dark eyes clear as they searched her features. She tried to pinpoint exactly what she was feeling. She could so easily picture the perfect girl for him, hair falling in soft blonde waves, eyes big crystalline pools as she gazed at him. She could imagine Danny plucking up the size two pixie (she'd seen the dress hanging like a warning sign in the back of his closet) and tossing her playfully in her arms.

"You're beautiful, Mindy."

She gathered her thoughts, voice brittle with uncertainty. "If I had a flat stomach... if my thighs weren't dimpled and my boobs were bigger..." There was a slight edge to her voice, defensiveness coloring her words. "I've looked into getting implants, but they're so expensive-"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

She ignored his question. "-and I tried blue contacts once, but they didn't look right, and-"

"I don't want that."

The vehemence of his declaration cut off her litany of insecurities, mouth closing mid sentence.

"You're a woman, and that's good… Look like a woman." He grabbed her chin, pulling it away from her chest so he could really convey the sincerity of his next words. "I understand, you're self conscious. Who isn't? But you don't have to be." He faltered, never one to say the perfect thing. The last thing he wanted was to say something unintentionally hurtful. He couldn't find the words to tell her he'd never seen soft brown eyes like hers before, so full of joy and sparkling with intelligence. He didn't know how to say that he'd wanted nothing more than to consume every inch of her for the past forty eight hours.

He fell back on the thing he knew he was good at, swooping down to kiss her, drawing her bottom lip into his mouth. Her arms uncrossed and threaded around his neck to pull him down closer.

He released her, panting desperately. "Can't you feel it?" The length of his erection pressed insistently against her thigh, and he swallowed hard as the soft skin caressed him.

Should he tell her about the baseball stats he'd recited, trying to push away the image of her naked body while she bathed? The sleepless night he'd spent one room away from her, gritting his teeth as images of her wrapped in one of his towels flashed before his eyes? No words came out.

Palming one breast, he dropped gentle little kisses against her collarbone, stalling. Could she feel the reverence in his touch? It seemed to work, her breaths once again thready as she squirmed beneath him. She twisted to grab the foil packet he'd abandoned on the nightstand, sending him a mischievous glance as she ripped it open with her teeth.

He took it from her, leaning back to roll it on as quickly as possible. Within seconds he was poised between her thighs once again, achingly ready to plunge into her. He studied her face one last time, finding her lips curved into secret little smile.

His breath caught painfully in his throat, a feeling he couldn't translate squeezing the air out of his lungs as he gazed at her. He swallowed, failing to dislodge it.

Positioning himself at her entrance, he rubbed the tip against the moisture glistening where he'd laved at her, not once taking his eyes off of her face. He honestly tried to go slow at first, pushing himself gently into her, muscles clenching low in his belly as she enveloped him. His jaw ticked with the pressure he exerted on it.

It was a tight fit, her kegels flexing around him as he filled her, his pubic bone grinding against the top of her mons in a way that, if she could possibly think straight, Mindy would have praised as textbook good sex. He worried for a moment that she might be uncomfortable, watching the expressions flit across her face as he moved against her. Her brow knitted in concentration when he plunged into her the second time, slipping against her with more force.

Her eyes fluttered, rolling back in pleasure as he picked up his speed. Every sound she made sent him closer and closer to the edge, a panicky feeling enveloped him at the thought of finishing before her. He just wanted to watch her fly apart before he lost all control.

Hooking one hand beneath her right knee, he hitched it up beside her, turning her whole body slightly to the side as he continued to thrust. Her eyes flew open, the question in them evaporating before she could articulate it. "Oh… god." She shook with gratification each time he reentered her. "Fuck, this could be a chapter in your book."

Even amidst the pleasure, Danny could hear the humor in her voice, an underlying happiness that made him feel warm all over as he climbed higher and higher. Just as he feared he was nearly spent, he felt it, the tremors starting deep inside of her and spiraling outward. She let out a long throaty moan, confirming what her body was already telling him. He grinned, answering her suggestion. "Working on that."

Danny pushed into her one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his lower abdomen clenched almost painfully, micro spasms twitching his hips into her a buried his face in the hollow of her shoulder. The muscles of his arms quivered as he held his weight off of her, wanting to stay nestled like this as long as possible, to feel her hands slipping over his back indefinitely. Eventually the protesting ache in his limbs was too much and he rolled away, regretfully slipping from between her legs.

For Mindy, this in itself was a moment of truth. She waited with her heart in her throat to see what Danny would do. As little as she wanted to think about it, Brendan's recent brush off sent a tremor of fear through her. The male species was a sneaky group, feigning passion and affection until they reached their goal, then slinking off to do their own thing. Her heart beat a little faster than necessary as Danny turned away from her, swinging his legs off the bed.

She watched the movements of his back, sweat glistening in the golden glow of the lamp. Her fingers curled into the palms of her hands, the nails making tiny crescent impressions in the soft flesh as she forced herself not to reach out and touch him. He dropped the used condom in the wastebasket and snatched his cotton tee off the cold floor.

Her eyes drifted shut in disappointment, waiting for the mattress to shift, suddenly free from his weight. She turned on her side, facing away, curling in on herself. It's not like he had anywhere to go. This was going to be the most awkward moment of her life, she held her breath, waiting for the words she knew were coming.

Danny wadded the shirt up and passed it over his damp skin, the sudden chill making him self concious about the perspiration clinging to him still. Acceptably dry, he dropped the shirt and turned back to her. His fingers twitched in her direction, already craving the feel of smooth skin once again.

Her 5'1" frame looked so tiny curled up in his bed, the smooth expanse of her back calling out to him. An aura of vulnerability encompassed her, and Danny felt the cold hand of fear clutch at his insides. He could so easily hurt her, say the wrong thing and crush her beautifully open heart. This was already getting dangerous, a spark inside of him emitting a pleasant glow that could no doubt turn into an all consuming blaze.

Slipping in beside her, he drew the down comforter over their exhausted bodies and pulled her naked back up against his chest. Her immediate proximity was enough to push away his brief bout of uncertainty, a contented sigh rolling through him as he buried his nose in the mass of her hair. So absorbed was he in his own pleasure that he didn't even hear her echoing sigh as she relaxed against him.

* * *

She was not a morning person. She hated the alarm clock that rang in her ears every day at five a.m. more than anything on earth, and had on more than one occasion tossed the damn thing halfway across the room. So, it was surprising to her when her eyes fluttered open to meet the first glowing rays of dawn as they shot through Danny's bedroom window.

Somehow during the night they'd switched positions, Mindy becoming the big spoon. It made her smile as she peeked over his shoulder. From this angle all she could see was his profile, sooty curls brushing against his forehead, impossibly long eyelashes fanned out against his cheek. She couldn't resist the urge to place little fairy kisses along his neck, following the line all the way down to his shoulder before he stirred.

Sighing deeply, he grunted. "Go back to sleep."

The giddiness fluttering in her stomach wouldn't allow it, and she continued to press smacking little kisses along his skin, her fingers curling under his arm. Her hand slipped down over his bare chest, palm flattening against his sternum.

He twisted under her touch, a drowsy grin aimed in her direction as he drew her into his arms. This was yet another side to Danny she'd never experienced. The mussed hair sticking up in all directions, eyes crinkled in pleasure, the red mark of sleep across one cheek.

Words bubbled inside of her, dangerous ones that had the potential to tip over their precariously stacked house of cards. She pushed them down and just stared, her meaning escaping through the look in her eyes, the blush heating her cheeks. He kissed her on the temple, a close mouthed little peck barely an afterthought as he drifted again.

Maybe she could go back to sleep after all, concentrated giddiness dispersing throughout her frame like the seeds of a dandelion in a gentle breeze. Eyes drifting shut, she snuggled into his embrace, pressing a quick kiss to the underside of his jaw before yawning dramatically.

The idyllic scene was harshly interrupted by a series of thumps and curses echoing through the living room, barely muffled by the bedroom door. Danny groaned, his arms tensing around her as he drew the coverlet over their heads.

Mindy struggled to sit upright, fighting against the confines of the blanket. "Damn it, Danny, what the hell?"

He remained prone, bringing one hand up to cover his face as he awaited the inevitable. It didn't take very long, the door to his bedroom swinging open with a bang as it smacked the doorstop.

"Pete!" Danny growled out the name, irritation seeping out of every syllable.

Mindy gaped at the curly headed frat boy standing in the frame, huge blue eyes nearly bulging out of his head. "Dude, you gotta get your ass out here and help us get my car out of the ditch."

Peter dashed out of the room without even acknowledging Mindy, and she turned to Danny to question his strange reaction, but was interrupted by the sound of a slow clap coming from the doorway. Peter

had done a cartoonish double take and returned.

"Well, well, well, well, well-"

Danny cut him off. "Stop saying that."

"-well, well. What do we have here?"

Danny snatched one of the pillows from behind Mindy, the muscles in his shoulders bunching as he lobbed it at his roommate. "Get out!"

Peter dodged the missile, making a lewd gesture with his hand as he backed through the open door. Mindy couldn't be sure, but she thought she could make out the distinct melody of _Fat Bottomed Girls_ being hummed as he retreated.

She cut her eyes to Danny, more than a little outrage behind her eyes. "Who was that?"

Danny sat up, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Pete, my roommate." Before Mindy could respond, he rushed on. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea he'd be home this morning. They must have cleared the roads." He swallowed, staring at her nervously. "Look, he's disgusting sometimes, but he's not a bad guy. He… he can keep a secret Mindy. He won't tell anyone."

Mindy scooted away from him slowly, the blanket clutched like armor to her chest. Her voice was small. "Won't tell anyone?" She hated the way she sounded, brittle and tremulous.

Danny nodded enthusiastically at her question, oblivious to her discomfort. "I promise. No one else has to know."

Backing even farther away, Mindy reached the edge of the bed. Danny finally got a clue, his eyebrows furrowing as she widened the space. His hand was on her arm immediately, drawing her back to him. "No, no… it's not like that. I just…" He felt sweat beading on his brow. This all felt too fragile to him. "Other people ruin things, and this, this feels important, don't you think?"

"Us?"

He nodded, heart doing a little flip in his chest as he watched her wary acceptance transform into untethered affection. "Can we just… be cool for a little while?"

Watching her process his question was like waiting for the rain to come, the air thick with electricity. She nodded. There. He backed away from the precipice, crisis seemingly averted, his guts unclenching for the moment, a breath he didn't know he'd been holding rushing out of his lungs.

Slipping from the bed, he dragged some clothes from his dresser, tossing some sweats in her direction. "Come on, I guess we have a car to get out of a ditch."

Mindy pulled them on, pushing back the worrisome thoughts as she wiggled into the baggy garments. She wasn't one to dwell on what-if, and Danny seemed to want something more with her. For now that would have to be enough.

She watched him digging through his closet, admiring the view. It wouldn't exactly be a hardship to accept whatever Danny was proposing. They had time to define it later, and she was riding high on the recent physical nature of their time together.

She was even willing to ponder the possible wisdom in his words. Danny shouldn't technically be in a relationship with her, and Garibaldi would probably have something to say about it. Hell, if she were honest, she didn't really like what it implied about her either, even if it were untrue.

She hopped up from the bed, bounding over to the closet where he stood. His jeans were hiked up on his hips still unzipped, chest bare as he searched for a shirt. The cool touch of her hands running along the contours of his back caught his attention.

The hanger in his hand clattered to the floor as he turned to pull her into a kiss, his thumb drawing tiny circles on her cheekbone as he gently plucked at her lips. It was so much easier to pour the way felt into the way he kissed her, to hold her to him like she might disappear at the slightest provocation. At this very moment he was sure she could translate his actions. Why else would she have wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her heart against his own?


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: whoooaaa I've had such awful writer's block, and this chapter took soooo long to write. Sorry :O. Sometimes I get stalled out plot wise, but I think I've gotten back on track. For better or worse, here's the next chapter, it's a bit of a transitional one. As always, I find comments and suggestions really encouraging.**

It was like an incessant humming, the low tone of Garibaldi's voice as he clicked through slides, almost hypnotic in its droning. Her eyes fluttered, blinking rapidly to wake herself up. Thank god the lecture hall was drafty, the constant chill in her fingertips the only thing keeping her awake as she clutched at her pen.

Her eyes dropped down to her notebook, a few notes scribbled here and there about substitution reactions of alkyl halides. A clear contrast to the ornate and painstakingly drawn script nestled between the hastily jotted chicken scratch. Little flowers and hearts floated between the pale blue lines of her college rule paper, the pen in her right hand adding yet another unnecessary curlicue to the D in Danny.

She scanned the paper, embarrassed at the sheer amount of doodles covering its surface. Setting her pen aside, she yanked the paper from the spiral note book, crumpling it into ball before shoving it in her bookbag. She could feel the blush heating her cheeks, grateful for Garibaldi's sudden reliance on something as archaic as a projector that necessitated such dimness.

Her current pastime wasn't exactly her fault. She already had the material down, and it was some horrid form of cruel and unusual punishment to test her willpower like this. Focusing on the paper in front of her was the only thing that kept her gaze from staring at Danny and daydreaming about things far more interesting than organic chemistry.

Hiding her relationship with Danny hadn't been easy for her from the beginning. She'd been bursting to tell Maggie every little detail about their first time together, eyes sparkling as she'd skipped through the door to their room. She'd barely stopped herself, getting out. "Oh god, Mags, I have something JUICY to tell you."

Of course, she was quick on her toes and swiftly steered the conversation into another channel, making up some outlandish story about her designer kicks getting stolen at the campus gym. Maggie had eyed her somewhat suspiciously, questioning the "juiciness" of the story, the existence of said designer kicks and even whether or not Mindy had ever set foot in the campus gym. As with most things, Mindy used her unrelenting enthusiasm to browbeat Maggie into believing the obvious lie.

And it wasn't logistically hard to keep this under lock and key, opportunities to reveal their relationship few and far between. Since the snow had been cleared away, they'd spent every moment they were both free basically locked in his bedroom, Danny doing an obscene amount of "research" for his future manifesto on the art of female orgasm.

Mindy smiled to herself, the lid of her pen tapping against the front of her teeth as she recalled the latest chapter that had been added to his outline. Her cheeks heated, flames licking at her insides as she recalled his slow yet persistent movements accompanied by the cacophony of inelegant curses she'd let escape in the throes of passion. She'd definitely be getting her own page in the acknowledgments. It was hard to believe she'd been tucked into his embrace merely hours before, absorbing the furnace-like heat of his skin as she panted against him.

They'd developed quite the routine too, Mindy popping over every Friday night for cooking lessons that always seemed to devolve into kitchen table make-out sessions, and impossibly long and drawn out games of Truth or Dare, the latter giving her a surprising amount of information about Danny's family.

Mindy always picked truth, and Danny rewarded her with beautifully unguarded vignettes of his childhood. He painted a picture when speaking, an innate storytelling ability bubbling up, his memories peppered with sensory descriptions easy to get lost in. Sometimes his answers started off loud and confident, puffing out his chest in a display of Staten Island machismo only to peter off into surprisingly soft spoken words about his island friends, a sheepish smile chasing across his face as he admitted to testing his mother's cooking sherry with his best friend when he was fourteen.

The only thing that put a damper on their dreamlike Friday nights was the cold reality of Saturday mornings. They would shuffle around quietly, making coffee and eating toast, before slipping out the door. A faint, and Mindy would dare say almost imperceptible feeling of awkwardness hanging in the air around them. This morning hadn't been any different.

Danny had driven her to campus, dropping her off in the parking lot behind the chemistry building. "I'm gonna be working late tonight for Garibaldi... so..."

He had trailed off, leaving her to put together the implication. "No hanging out tonight?"

He nodded, a regretful little frown pull in at the corners of his mouth as he put the car in park. She always tried to brush away the niggling irritation in the back of her mind, but she was pretty sure this morning it had showed in her body language. Why else would Danny have slipped his hand in the crook of her arm, stopping her from exiting the car?

"You ok?"

Looking down slightly, she'd thrown him a weak smile, nodding in response. He'd kissed her so gently, sighing deeply when her lips had parted, granting him full access. No one else had ever kissed her like that, one hand cradling her face, the other at her throat, his thumb seeming to seek out her pulse.

His voice was slightly hoarse when he released her. "Yeah?"

She'd nodded a second time, wordlessly exiting the car and walking toward the building. In her mind, there was a countdown to the moment when they would reveal that they were dating. She firmly believed it was merely a matter of weeks, the end of the semester looming closer with each passing day. She'd take her finals, go home and visit her lovely parents for Christmas break, and the third week of January this vow of silence would finally be lifted. She even had an app on her phone that crossed off the days as they passed.

That was enough, really, to allay the minor feeling of trepidation she felt each time Danny dropped her off, far away from his usual parking spot. It even helped with the tiny tendril of fear that uncurled in her stomach each time he didn't walk her up to her room.

And the doodles in her notebook? Well, lately when her minded started to wander, it always seemed to find a path to him, and trying to thwart that tendency only made it worse. He was sitting mere feet from her, hunched over a pile of paperwork while Garibaldi clicked through the interminable slideshow. In the darkness all she could really see was the bluish glow reflected off his hair, the thick locks parted on the side, ruffled only slightly from running his hands through it repeatedly.

Her fingers itched to comb their way through the dark mass, to slip down to the nape where the hair tapered into a point. She'd noticed it was getting longer, twirling it between her index and thumb while she kissed him lazily.

The lights flicked on, and Mindy squeezed her eyes shut in surprise. Had it already been an hour and a half? The time had a way of zipping by when she was thinking about certain things. Blinking, she attempted to regain her focus, snatching her bag up and shoving her books into it.

This was the worst part of Saturdays, turning away from Danny and shuffling out of the lecture hall. Today it was significantly harder, since they weren't even meeting up later as usual.

There was always a small group of students who stayed behind, some vying for the attention of Garibaldi, questions about grades or the syllabus jumping anxiously from their mouths. Others waited patiently to ask Danny to explain different substitution and elimination reactions. Mindy rolled her eyes at the thought.

Her steps slowed as she got closer to the exit, impatient classmates brushing unapologetically past her. Glancing over her shoulder, she peered at the little group around Danny, wondering if there seemed to be more simpering co-eds than usual. She shook her head, surprised at the sudden hot flash of jealousy. It wasn't something she had a lot of experience with, and she didn't like the decidedly unevolved urge to scratch out the eyes of another woman.

She'd almost shaken off the unwelcome emotion when a confidently tall woman strode up to the group, parting the way like Moses at the Red Sea. She was willowy, the alabaster skin of her shoulders continuing in a long graceful line down her arms. Mindy could only see the back of her head, a shiny golden bob accentuating her delicate neck.

An unstoppable surge of jealousy pulsed through Mindy as the mystery woman leaned forward, placing one pale hand on Danny's arm, squeezing with her slim fingers. But it wasn't the action alone that triggered this unpleasant sensation, it was the look on his face. He immediately went slack jawed, eyes wide with surprise, brows shooting up as the woman chattered brightly.

There was so much familiarity in her body language, leaning in close as she smiled through her words. As if sensing they didn't belong, the small group of students dispersed, leaving the two alone.

Mindy spun on her heel, nearly knocking down an overdressed young man standing in the doorway. He glared at her balefully, picking up the books he'd dropped. "Watch where you're going, princess."

Embarrassed, she hurriedly tripped through the door, wincing as the sunlight cascaded down on her. She could feel the queasiness stirring, the swirling sensation surrounding her.

She felt like she'd been blindfolded for the past several weeks, participating willfully in such an obvious game. The sudden clarity engulfing her was sickening, and she struggled to dash across the campus to her dorm.

Whipping out her phone, she texted Maggie.

_Where are you?_

Much to her relief, a reply came through within seconds, phone buzzing against her fingers as she speed walked.

* * *

 

The aspirin bottle hit the edge of Mindy's desk with a little more force than she'd intended, white pills rattling in the clear bottle like a poor excuse for a maraca. Maggie glared at her from across the room, pressing two fingers gingerly to her temple. "Keep it down over there."

Stomping heavily over to Maggie's bed, Mindy held out her hand, offering the tiny white aspirins as an olive branch. "I need to talk to you, and you're… ugh."

Maggie snatched them from her palm, tipping up a tall glass of water. She chugged it, fighting of the remaining vestiges of dehydration. She didn't look back at Mindy until the last drop was gone. "Trouble in paradise?"

"What?" The question threw Mindy for a loop, confusion drawing her brows together.

Squinting unpleasantly at the sunshine filtering through the blinds sending shooting pains through her skull, Maggie cursed under her breath.. She snatched a pair of Ray-Bans from the dresser, peering at Mindy behind the tinted lenses. "I assume your secret boyfriend is being a major league douche-nozzle, since you've finally come running to me. You've got that I'm-about-to-gag look on your face."

"It's not... He's not- wait, how…?" Mindy sputtered, the urge to gag triggered once again by Maggie's reference to it. Her fingers darted to her throat, the airway feeling suddenly constricted. She swalloed. "I don't have a  _look."_

Maggie rolled her eyes, somehow managing to look exasperated in her clammy-skinned hungover state. "What did you say at the beginning of the semester, Mindy? You wanted to..." Maggie closed her eyes in concentration, plucking the exact verbiage from her memory. "... experience the collegiate portion of your life with the fervor and zeal of Nicki Minaj picking a wine to attach her name to... Or something like that."

" _So_?"

"So, what have you done? Rushed a sorority? Joined any student organizations? Led any protests? Have you even met any new people?" Maggie shifted to her knees, scooting on the mattress until she was facing her friend. Grabbing Mindy's shoulders with her unusually strong fingers, Maggie continued. "No, you haven't. You disappear every day after your classes, spend the weekends with this mystery guy... I'd be an awful friend if I didn't notice what was happening."

Mindy stood in stunned silence. Having her total lack of a social life spread out before her was like a slap in the face. How had this happened? The semester was almost over, her 'Freshman Year To-Do' list laying forgotten in the top drawer of her desk.

Mindy plopped down on the bed, leaning into her roommate. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Maggie looped a consoling arm around Mindy's shoulders. "I don't know, Lahiri, you seemed happy enough, I assumed there had to be a good reason you were hiding it from me." Maggie swallowed, adding, "But I'm saying something now. You look miserable. Spill the beans."

"He wants to 'be cool' and I'm having a hard time with it." Mindy accented the phrase with weak air quotes.

Maggie wrinkled her nose, a clear expression of disgusting curling her lip. "Be cool? What does that even mean?"

"We're keeping us a secret..."

Maggie scoffed. "Ugh, frat boys and their stupid slang."

Mindy ignored her comment. "But sometimes it doesn't feel like we're keeping our relationship secret... It's..." She struggled to articulate the sick feeling that washed over her at the oddest times. "It's more like  _I'm_ the secret." She sighed. "I don't know... It's not like he doesn't have a valid reason, but..."

"How convenient."

The ire in Maggie's words surprised Mindy, and she pulled away to get a better look at her friend. "What?"

"I'm  _sure_  his excuse is 'valid,' but it's playa 101 to keep a relationship secret... opens up a whole new field of opportunities.  _Especially_ if the excuse is real. How many girls has he said that to? How many girls is he saying that to  _right now_?"

Mindy was aghast. Everything Maggie said made perfect sense, logically, but her heart didn't want to believe it. It didn't seem possible that Danny could kiss her so warmly, look at her with such soft vulnerability in his eyes, and then... do that with someone else.

Her mind rebelled at the thought, but a tiny voice whispered to her about wispy blondes with long graceful legs. She shook her head, willing the thought away.

Maggie grabbed her, pulling her from the swirling vortex of doubt. "Hey, relax..." Racking her brain to think of a solution, her eyes lit on the crudely drawn flyer on her nightstand. Snatching it up, she waved it in front of Mindy's distraught face. "Let's do something tonight, my friend Pete is having a kegger at his house, and-"

Mindy snatched the paper away, staring at it in horror. "Peter  _Prentice_?! Peter  _freaking_ Prentice is having a party at  _his_  house and you know about it, but I don't?!"

"Um, we have classes together..."

Grinding her teeth, she pointed at the address on the flyer. "He's Danny's roommate, Maggie."

Maggie slowly took off the sunglasses, a look of sympathy on her face. "It's Danny? Short, quiet dude?" She contemplated this new information, putting two and two together. "Huh. That must mean you're the 'spicy little dish' Pete was talking about."

Mindy jumped up and tossed the paper to the floor, irritation building inside of her until she was pacing between the twin beds. "Oh my god, you're right… I'm a side dish."

"That's not what-"

She nodded vigorously, worrying away at her thumbnail as she moved back and forth. "She must be his girlfriend."

"She?"

Mindy stopped, skidding slightly against the carpet as she whirled back to face her friend. "The ethereal grecian goddess putting her dirty paws all over him after class today. You should have seen his face. I thought he was surprised, but now I think having us in such close proximity was making him nervous."

The words were pouring out, all jammed together as Mindy's panic crescendoed. Maggie was more than a tad bit alarmed. She rose from the bed and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Mindy, stop, you're spinning out of control. We don't know if any of that is true. Let's just go to the party tonight and you can ask him. I could be wrong."

She nodded, wide eyes narrowing in an all too familiar way. Maggie immediately regretted her suggestion, but it was too late. Mindy had already dove into the closet, her chirpy voice carrying out into the bedroom. "Of course… yes.. and  _then_  I can give him an ultimatum. I'm not being his secret mistress any longer. It's not as glamorous as Marilyn Monroe made it seem.  _And he's no Kennedy!_ "

"The party isn't for hours…" Maggie trailed off, knowing that at this point the events of the day were like a runaway train, nothing she could say or do would change anything. Mindy was on a mission.


	11. Chapter 11

Danny bent his head low, squinting as he struggled to read the uniformly compact writing of a nervous student. The balancing equation stretched all the way across the page, coming up on the edge unexpectedly, the tiny numbers and letters squishing together in a lopsided effort not to stray to the next line.

He frowned, dropping the test to the gleaming polished surface of Garibaldi's desk, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on, tension pulling tightly at the muscles at his temples. Closing his eyes, he leaned back, a sharp squeak coming from the leather padded chair.

It wasn't  _just_  the tests that had him frustrated and tightly coiled. Actually, it wasn't the tests at all. There was nothing unusual about the fastidious manner in which Garibaldi's students took their tests, hunched over their desks as they scribbled madly trying to finish before the minute hand reached around to twelve again. And the professor always underestimated how much time was needed to complete the long pages of convoluted chemistry questions. He'd seen a panic attack or three in the past couple years.

He was used to it by now. The real reason he could feel a pounding headache building behind his eyeballs, the tension in his shoulders growing with each passing minute, was Christina. He could admit that a cold sweat had broken out across his forehead when she'd charged through the students, sending the youthful academics scurrying with one twitch of a finely arched brow. Her icy stare had chilled far hardier souls than the ones standing between her and Danny.

And when she'd touched his arm, the rushing tide of memories had overwhelmed him, his voice sticking in his throat as though there were a wishbone caught in his windpipe. She was still beautiful, limpid eyes sparkling as she assessed him, skin pale and opaque like frosted glass shielding a bright light. The easy smile that she cast over him could only mean trouble. He'd felt his chest constrict in anticipation.

It had only taken him one semester to fall head over heels in love with her, fresh out of high school, no inkling of the responsibilities that would pull him away from his studies within a year. She'd been everything he wasn't, graceful, poised. She'd spoken elegantly, each word enunciated like she were reciting poetry, no trace of a regional accent anywhere in her clearly defined syllables.

She was not an island girl, the raw sensuality he'd always been drawn to was somehow absent, and in it's place resided an ethereal, almost untouchable beauty. She reminded him of the marble statues in the Acropolis, regally standoffish, and all the more alluring for it.

She was as cold as the marble statues too, watching him fall in love with her so quickly, keeping her own emotional distance. When he'd declared his love for her, saying the actual words no easy task for him, her eyes had widened in disbelief. "Danny, we're not even exclusive!"

He'd taken it as rejection, betrayal slicing through him like a hot knife through butter. Rage boiled up inside of him, the hurt somehow a culmination of every rejection he'd ever experienced. It would never have occurred to him that exclusivity needed to be stated, lines drawn in the sand. They'd never really been on the same wavelength, coming together in concert only behind closed doors and under heavy blankets.

She hadn't seen it though, the calm facade slipped down over his features so swiftly. Sure, they weren't exclusive. He'd stopped seeking her out shortly after that. The distance helped, and it was soon magnified by his return home to support his family in a trying time. But, when he came back, she was still there, laying her cool fingers on the back of his neck, coming up behind him and surprising him with a pinch.

Her persistent proximity and his driving need to just … be enough for someone pushed him back toward her with sickening regularity, falling into what she called a "friends with benefits" arrangement. Although, each time they had tumbled into the bed, he'd thought maybe it would be the time she realized she'd been wrong about him. His hands would curl unconsciously into fists as he'd listened to her gather her things and depart before dawn. Every time he told himself it would be the last, but it never was.

He'd sagged with relief when she'd told him she was going to some non traditional art school on the west coast, getting her bachelor's a full two years before him. His ears burned with shame at the memory of those last few nights, frantically making love to her like it would change things, an over eager little boy trying to prove himself.

He couldn't have told you what he'd thought that would accomplish. He'd shied away from the hope that she would suddenly declare him good enough, unpack her bags and settle in with him. The hot coals of humiliation raked over him every time she walked away unscathed, leaving him raw and more than a little bitter. Now he was able to see his motivation clearly, a base part of himself clinging to her simply because she didn't seem to want or need him at all.

He thought grimly of her last visit, sometime in the summer, a sweltering weekend spent sprawled on the cool hardwood of his bedroom floor. He'd felt pathetic all over again when she'd left without a word, hanging the dress she'd forgotten in the back of his closet. He knew she'd be back eventually.

What he hadn't anticipated was Mindy, her radiant smile beaming at him every time he turned around. For the first time in a really long time, he'd forgotten Christina, felt the warmth of true affection tingling around his heart when Mindy said his name. That feeling was utterly foreign to him, and it left an overexcited swarm of butterflies flapping in his stomach.

He'd been so stunned by Christina's sudden appearance in the lecture pit, that by the time his head had popped up, eyes searching desperately for Mindy, she was no where to be found. It left a distinct hollow feeling in the center of his chest, an unexpected sense of foreboding seeping into him.

Now, he wasn't worried about falling back into Christina's toxic orbit, he'd finally gotten away from the pull she exerted on him. Her eyes no longer seemed to hold infinite depths, and he was left wondering if maybe she had a circulatory problem, her hands cold as ever. The worry that swirled in his chest had an altogether different source. He was desperately afraid Christina's reappearance would screw things up with Mindy.

He'd been counting down the days until the end of the semester, a reservation at  _Chez Bleu_  ready and waiting in January, when they could finally stop this game of hide and seek. He knew this was hard for her, clouds casting shadows over her sunny countenance whenever they parted ways each day, and he felt a pinching sensation just under his sternum each time it happened. He knew it couldn't go on much longer like this.

Christina was aggressive, even more so whenever someone presented a challenge. She wasn't the type of woman to deliberately destroy his new relationship, but if he displayed marked disinterest without a concrete reason, she was certain to redouble her efforts.

Danny groaned, pushing back from the desk and making his way to Garibaldi's bookshelf. The funny little man had a miniature bar disguised as a geographically correct globe. Danny rested his hand on the top of it, his finger finding the little hinge that swung the thing open. There was just enough room inside for one crystal bottle of moderately expensive whiskey and two matching tumblers.

He carefully pulled out the bottle and poured himself two fingers. The liquid burned as it splashed against the back of his throat. Danny couldn't be sure, but he was pretty convinced there was very little difference between a hundred dollar bottle of Irish whiskey and the fifteen dollar gutrot he often drank. It all tasted awful going down, but always had pretty much the same effect.

Just as he set the finely etched crystal tumbler back on the shelf, a warm little fire pooling in his stomach, he felt it. The hauntingly familiar cool touch at his neck, two fingers being drawn across the skin, careful not to catch the hair at his nape.

He closed his eyes for a millisecond, wishing it was Mindy, yet knowing she'd never be this patient. Her lips would have already been eagerly trailing hot kisses down his neck, hands pulling at him.

Turning, he found Christina smiling at him slightly, eyes narrowed as she calculated her next move. He hadn't heard her come in, her silent movements reminiscent of a predatory cat, the look on her face doing nothing to qualify that impression.

Danny just stared, trying to figure out what had once been so mesmerizing about this woman, a little frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. Just as he suspected, his unwelcoming attitude only seemed to be a challenge, cold hands grasping the back of his neck as she pulled him to her lips.

His arms instinctively raised, hands resting on her shoulders. She took it as acquiescence and tried to deepen the kiss, stepping into his embrace. He pushed her away, ending the interaction with an audible smack as their lips parted.

"What the hell, Christina?"

She appeared confused for a moment, but quickly shrugged it off. "What, Danny, our usual greeting not to your liking?"

He could feel the heat in his face, cursing the alcohol just making its way through his veins. "No, I mean, yes, um… What are you doing here?"

Arching one eyebrow in response, she closed the space between them once again, this time smiling mischieviously. Her hand lit on his chest, sliding slowly downward as she spoke. "Same as always, Daniel."

Normally, the husky way she said his full name would have had him dragging her to the nearest flat surface, but currently it only inspired a mild revulsion in him.

Her eyes quickly traversed his body, narrowing as she tried to figure him out. "You practically bolted this morning, sweating like you have some sort of medical condition. Either something's up, or you're just exceptionally excited to see me."

He felt her hand slip down to his belt buckle, and opened his mouth to object, but another voice beat him to the punch.

"Yo, Castellano, I've got...:"

Peter stood in the doorway, frozen comically mid stride, eyes impossibly wide as he surveyed the scene before him. Danny saw the machinations of his roommate's brain, putting two and two together and then finally, after a kind of lengthy amount of time, coming up with four. Peter's eyes narrowed, nodding in an irritatingly all knowing way. "Interrupting something, am I?"

Danny awkwardly pushed Christina away, rounding the desk to put more space between them. He focused entirely on Peter, pointedly ignoring Christina in a way that implied Peter had very  _much_  been interrupting something. "What? No, Pete, not at all. Did you need something?"

Now that Danny thought about it, it was kind of odd for Pete to be here. In the two years they'd lived together, Danny could count the number of times Peter had sought him out on campus on one hand. The guilty look that crossed his friend's overly animated face confirmed Danny's suspicion.

"Pete?"

Peter started talking rapidly, edging slightly away from Danny. "So there's gonna be a rager at the house tonight, and by 'gonna' I kind of mean 'already is', and we sort of designated your bedroom for all beer related games, and my buddy Pubes took apart your bed to make room for the beer pong table, but he lost the screws, so I just wanted to give you a heads up and let you know you probably need to find somewhere else to sleep tonight."

"What! There's  _one_ rule! One! You and your idiot friends stay  _out_  of my bedroom."

Peter raised his hands in defense, looking over Danny's shoulder at Christina, silently pleading with her to intervene."It's not like you can't find somewhere else for one night right? I mean surely M-"

Danny cut him off, grabbing him by the shirt front. "Is there  _no_ respect for a man's privacy? This is anarchy!"

"Has anyone ever told you, you got a real flare for the dramatic?" Peter twisted out of his angry grasp, straightening his shirt indignantly. "Come on man, relax. You could, I don't know,  _maybe_  join in the revelry for once, instead of being such an uptight stuffed shirt." He gestured to Christina. "Maybe invite your lady friend to the festivities, see if she has any hot chicas who might want to come. Stop being such a wet blanket."

Danny's jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he struggled not to deck the man standing in front of him. But then he felt it again, the cool fingers against his neck, this time sending an unpleasant shiver down his spine. She was at his shoulder, smiling at the idiot in the doorway.

"That sounds great, Pete. Get a few shots in Danny and he's an entirely different person. She leaned over kissing him on the cheek. "And I think we can find someplace to sleep tonight." Turning to Danny, she smiled like a cat who'd just lapped up an entire bowl of cream. "Sort this out with your friend. I'll be waiting at your car." And then she slipped gracefully from the room, leaving Danny fuming.

Peter stared at him strangely. "So that's how it is?"

This confusing statement drew Danny out of his ire somewhat. "How  _what_  is?"

Peter merely shook his head, leaning against the door jamb. "I respect your player status, aspire to it even, but... " He shifted uncomfortably. "Mindy's a nice girl, isn't she? I don't think-"

Danny cut him off. "Mind your own damn business, Prentice." He ushered Peter angrily from the office, locking it behind them silently. Danny quickly outpaced him, calling out over his shoulder. "You're gonna find those screws, and you're gonna get your friends the hell out of my house."

* * *

Mindy tugged anxiously at the hem of her cocktail dress. She wasn't one to shy away from short skirts, but she'd gone a bit overboard tonight. The tight black bandage dress hugged every single curve, stopping high on her thigh to expose an expanse of smooth brown skin. She'd eyed herself carefully in the mirror before finally letting Maggie drag her out of the room.

Her makeup was on point, the winged eyeliner like fierce war paint paired with her cherry red lipstick, hair falling in silken waves around her shoulders. She knew she looked crazy bangable hot, and yet there was still a tiny bit of insecurity lingering in the back of her mind. If she  _were_ the other woman, there was little she could do to compete against someone like the stunning blonde, especially if there was already a history there.

Lost in thought, she'd somehow drifted into a corner, reverting back the way she acted at parties in highschool, nothing but an artfully decorated wallflower. It was early yet, only nine, Danny nowhere to be seen, Maggie having ditched her almost as soon as they slipped through the door.

To be fair, Maggie had said she was going to do some recon, find out who the mystery blonde was without stirring up too much trouble, but Mindy hadn't seen in her in a good bit, three entire upbeat pop songs having played all the way through.

She sighed, leaning against the wall, head dropping back with an audible thud, about to give full rein to her worst thoughts. A hand at her elbow yanked her back to reality, eyelids flying open in surprise.

Mindy checked her enthusiasm upon seeing the downward turn of Maggie's mouth. "So, I couldn't find out anything. Pete isn't here, and apparently Andrew knows next to nothing about Danny or his love life. Apparently, Mr. Inappropriate TA is quite close mouthed about his personal life."

Mindy sighed, shaking her head. She suddenly felt very foolish. "Let's just go, Mags. This is idiotic." Her cheeks were slightly flushed with embarrassment as she shrugged off her friend's touch. "I should just ask him the next time I see him, it's not like-"

Her next words were drowned out by a racket at the front door, hooping and hollering like mad. It was some sort of chant, the sort of thing she would have been familiar with if she'd ever attended any of the frat parties Maggie had been invited too.

A group spilled through the front entrance, King Peter at it's helm, holding a tap over his head. "Keg is here!"

Mindy forgot her desire to leave, intent now on scanning the faces of each person who passed through the doorway, frowning at the number of already pre-gamed sorority girls slipping in between the guys. The constant flood of people slowed somewhat, trickling down to nothing, and Mindy let out a long sigh of relief.

There was always a chance Danny didn't know about this party. It didn't really seem like his scene anyway. A flash of him sitting alone at the desk in Garibaldi's office floated before her eyes, a sweet smile spreading across her face at the thought. How unfair that he got stuck with so much of the professor's work. Now that she thought about it, the older man was always fobbing stuff off on Danny, surely more than any other TA was expected to undertake.

A full strength wave of indignation swept over her, and she tossed her shoulders back, already formulating the strongly worded letter she was going to send to the Dean over Garibaldi clearly taking advantage of a student who desperately needed the position. She'd even taken three quick steps toward the door, when it swung open again, this time a pair of soft dark eyes staring at her in surprise.

She couldn't help the involuntary kick she felt when she saw him, her heart thumping a quick little double tap, lips curving upward unconsciously before she remembered her purpose here. When she did remember, it didn't help. For the briefest of moments there was an answering expression on his face, a softness around the eyes that even she hadn't seen all that often, but it was quickly masked as his eyebrows furrowed.

Danny was the first to speak. "What are you doing here?"

Mindy's opened her mouth to answer, squaring her shoulders to bolster her waning confidence, but the sound died on her vocal chords, withering away at the sight of a pair of ice blue eyes just over Danny's shoulder.

Mindy spun on her heel, no easy task in five inch Louboutins, scurrying across the crowded room. She picked the first door she found, slamming it behind her before leaning against it and squeezing her eyes shut.

She hadn't expected the hurt. It clawed at her chest, forcing the air out of her lungs, an invisible hand closing on her larynx. Tears only came when she caught her breath, the squeaking gasps sounding like a dying seagull.

"Um, are you alright?"

She nearly choked, drawing her shaking hands away from the cool surface of the door to cover her mouth. Peter was staring at her with a horrified expression on his face, paused in the middle of buttoning a clean shirt. She couldn't answer for fear of bursting into ugly sobs again, so she merely shook her head.

"Hey, uh, don't cry…"

**A/N: Thanks for reading, sorry it took so long for an update. I'm really having a hard time sitting down and writing lately. I HATE leaving things unfinished though and I still have a clear idea where I want this to end up, so please bear with me. All your comments are very dear to me, and I love it when anyone takes the time to let me know what they think.**


	12. Chapter 12

There are times in everyone's life when everything just seems to stop. All sound ceases and everything around you freezes in place. The only thing you can hear is the beating of your own heart pounding in your chest, and all you can feel is the sweat slicking your skin as your brain goes into hyperdrive. It only lasts a millisecond before tumbling you back into reality, but for Danny it had always been a harbinger of bad things.

As someone who wanted to become a doctor, Danny was aware that this phenomenon wasn't actually the stoppage of time, but a trick his brain played on him when things began to slip out of his control. Possibly the flooding of endorphins as his body geared up, the fight or flight response in all it's archaic glory. He was pretty sure he should only feel like this if his life were in danger, but that just wasn't the case.

This time it happened the moment Mindy disappeared from his line of vision, the room around him like a diorama encased in lucite half a heartbeat, his diaphragm freezing in place as his throat closed. Christina was at his side, caught mid laugh flashing a bright smile at some guy wearing neon yellow sunglasses.

Blinking, he tried to figure out the quickening of his pulse, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew he'd fucked up when Mindy's face had fallen, heartbreak painted there as clearly as lines along the side of the road. He could have told Christina he was dating someone. He could have let Peter know things were not as they seemed. But each bad decision had flowed so effortlessly from the one preceding it, that he'd hoped to sweep the entire mess under the rug before anything ever came of it. He should have known better.

When time started back up, the heat of the crowd of people around him felt claustrophobic, pressing in on his chest as his eyes scanned the room for her. It wasn't too late, after all, to tell Christina to buzz off and explain himself to Mindy, beg her to forgive him. She was dramatic, sure, but he knew she would forgive him, knew that she would be able to read the sincerity in his voice.

He shifted, taking one step forward to continue his search before realizing something was impeding his movement. Christina was practically draped over him, one arm across the back of his shoulders, head inclined toward the conversation in front of them. He could feel her idly fiddling with his tie, tugging at it ever so slightly every few seconds.

"Isn't that right, Danny?"

This time her voice was directed at him, a rhetorical question on her lips. It was a tone he was intimately familiar with. Whenever they had ever spent any time around her artistic friends, he'd always been expected to nod along to her observations, tacitly agreeing. "Uh, what?"

"The campus has gotten so young. There are so many naive little teenagers running around. It's hard to believe we were ever like that." She gestured in a somewhat condescending manner to the room around her, adjusting the volume of her voice to be heard over the noise. "Just look at all these girls, falling all over themselves to -"

He cut her off. "Um, sure, whatever you say. Look, I have something I need to do."

"Oh, right. The bed. We do need a place to sleep tonight." The loud assertion was made with a sly wink, her voice carrying over the thumping music. She moved closer to him, the hand fiddling with his tie sliding down the neat row of buttons until it rested on his belt buckle. Her lips were by his ear now, hot breath puffing out as she whispered. "Or we could just do it on the floor like last time."

"Enough!" At this, Danny jerked back, awkwardly holding her at arm's length. He knew there were big round stains under his sleeves, and that his voice was a little sharper than needed. The people in their little group were gaping at him as though he had suddenly morphed into Ted Bundy. He shook his head, taking one cleansing breath. "I'm with someone, ok?"

Christina's mouth dropped open, staring at him in confusion. "What?"

"As in dating… you know."

She rolled her eyes, stepping away from her. Her whole posture changed, straightening slightly as she moved away. He'd never really noticed how she seemed to unconsciously bend her knees slightly when standing next to him. He felt a tiny flash of irrational anger.

"Jesus, Danny, you could have said something. Why are you so verbally constipated?" And with that she was gone, striding over to an ice filled pail of beer bottles. She snagged one and sidled up to the next closest guy, instantly striking up a friendly conversation.

He felt like a thousands kinds of fool, but couldn't resist the relief flowing through his body as he spun around. Looking left and right like a child who'd lost his parents, he scanned the place for Mindy. She was nowhere to be found, which meant she'd either left, or ducked into one of the bedrooms. He wasn't sure which he hoped it would be.

* * *

Peter Prentice was a ladies man, self described anyway. Those who knew him in high school might have told a different story though, reminiscing about a bespectacled nerd with a borderline dangerous amount of head gear. But he didn't spend a whole lot of time wondering what those jerks remembered, busy as he was perfecting his come hither glances (ineffective as they were behind the dark tint of his new wayfarers).

Reinvention had been his one and only goal in college. He shed his former life like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis in the early dew of a spring morning. Coasting as he did through his gen-ed classes, it wasn't exactly hard to focus on the more important things, like finding his center of gravity when doing a keg stand or flashing his undeniably adorable grin at every co-ed that passed by.

But Peter's newfound confidence, his swagger as his "brothers" would call it, was merely a brittle shell encasing the same person he'd always been. He'd had exactly one girlfriend in his twenty years on earth, and she'd broken his pathetic little heart into a million tiny pieces. It was a hell of a lot easier to say he couldn't be tied down, than to explain the minor panic attack he felt flare up when a girl actually expected conversation.

That's not to say girls weren't interested. Flashing his baby blues with a minorly smarmy wink actually had about a fifty percent success rate. His mother had called them mermaid eyes, an undeniable weapon in his cupid's arsenal. The irises shifting between blue and aquamarine and fringed by surprisingly curly lashes were like a siren's call, only losing their power when he opened his mouth.

Needless to say, parties seemed to be his forte when it came to wooing the opposite sex. The combination of body heat, loud music, and free flowing alcohol allowed Peter to hone his babe-magnet skills in a way that any other social setting simply couldn't. The Sigma Epsilon mating dance was one that relied on there being no idle chit chat.

So, when he found himself alone in a comparatively quiet room with a sobbing (and yet still hot) female, his bright blue eyes only widened with disbelief, a formless dread drifting through him. Her own eyes were squeezed shut, face awash in tears as she gulped and hiccupped. Peter briefly wondered if it were possible that she hadn't seen him, hoping he could just sneak out unnoticed.

Then it clicked, the vague feeling of familiarity floating around in the back of his mind finally settling into place. Mindy. The bright and loud (Danny's walls were not  _that_ thick) pre-med student that had been hanging around quite a lot lately. He'd never seen her like this, having only caught quick glimpses of her as Danny ushered the petite little firecracker in or out. He seemed to recall her having something of a persistent look of happiness on her face. Her features were currently contorted in distress, snot and tears mixing as tried to catch her breath. He sighed, cursing Danny for whatever idiocy had put him in this position.

And he wondered at that too. From all the evidence Peter had gathered, it looked as though Danny was porking the wicked witch of the west yet again, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. Danny had seemed different in the weeks since Peter had caught him in bed cuddled up with Mindy, whistling in the kitchen as he flipped pancakes, humming the bars  _Gypsy_  as he folded laundry. Peter never would have said he knew Danny all that well, the man was a closed book, but even Peter knew Danny's usual go-to I'm-getting-laid-music wasn't Fleetwood Mac. It was usually some old guy yell/singing about manliness while a chorus of guitars played in the background. And yet, contrary to everything Peter was seeing, Danny seemed to be closing ranks with the ice queen once again.

Peter sighed, recalling the absolutely miserable month following Christina's last visit. Weeks of slammed doors and yelling about noise pollution whenever anyone played anything upbeat on the sound system in the living room. No, that was not something Peter wanted to go through again, not that he cared how Danny felt. He just wanted to watch  _Caddyshack_  without someone grumbling out pissy commentary in the background.

"Um, are you alright?" Not exactly Shakespeare, but Peter figured it was as good a place as any to start.

Her eyes flew open, hands darting up to cover her mouth as she shook her head. He could see his presence was definitely not a comfort, her sobs getting a little more hysterical as her gaze shifted up and down his form.

He glanced down, suddenly remembering the shirt hanging half open. Fingers flew up the placket, swiftly fastening all the buttons before he turned back to her. "Uh…" What the hell now? Wasn't there some sort of off switch? He swallowed, trying to think of the last time he'd been accosted with a crying chick. This definitely wasn't a "I  _just_  got my hair blown out and now there's puke in it" kind of situation.

Surprisingly, instinct seemed to take over, his feet tentatively carrying him toward her, palm resting gently on her shoulder. "Hey, uh, don't cry…" Perfect, surely that would stop the flow of saline that was currently dripping down onto the front of her little black dress. Peter winced as an unattractive snot bubble formed.

She did get quiet for a second, blinking as she focused on his face. Recognition flitted across her features, and the soft hiccups the only sound echoing in the room. "Pete?"

He frowned, forgetting himself for a second. "It's actually Peter. Danny's the only one that calls me Pete. I don't know why. It's not like I call him Dan."

At the mention of Danny she dropped her head back down into her hands, pulling away from Peter as she let herself slide down the door. The floor was cool against her bare legs, the skirt of her already short dress riding up even more. Peter was grateful the painful caterwauling didn't start again, but he was just as disconcerted by the mournful keening that took its place. Shit.

Sighing, he dropped back a couple steps and plopped down on the edge of the bed. This was definitely not how he pictured the night going. If a girl was going to be crying in his room, best case scenario it would have been tears of joyful ecstasy… and worst case, possibly tears of dissatisfied frustration… not this mess.

She started talking, the words coming out in a waterlogged mumble, eventually coalescing into something intelligible. "It's just so confusing, Peter. I can't figure out if I'm Aniston or Jolie, and I don't even know which one I should want to be."

"Uh, what?"

"Ange was the other woman, sure, but she ended up with the love of her life. On the other hand, she was  _still_  the other woman…" At this point it seemed as though Mindy spoke only to herself, not even looking at Peter, her focus pulled entirely inward, trying to work out a complex equation. Suddenly she slammed her hands down on the floor and looked up at him. "It doesn't even matter, because he doesn't want me anyway. I'm Juliette Lewis at this point."

Peter finally began to understand her convoluted rant. He shook his head, looking around for something she could use to wipe the mess off her face. He rummaged through a drawer, distractedly saying, "Danny is… He's kind of a dick, always has been, as far as I can tell, but he's never been one to play the field."

Her eyes shot up to him, still glazed over from her recent bout of tears."What?"

Finding a hideous scarf long abandoned by his last sexual conquest, he held it out to her, continuing as he sat back on the bed "Christina's not his girlfriend, and he actually doesn't date much. She does show up for a tumble in the sheets now and then, but it's not an exclusive thing, you know?"

This prompted a low wail from Mindy, the scarf hanging limply in her grasp, some new slight ripping her apart on the inside from the sound of it. "So it's me then. He won't tell anyone about me. Why is he ashamed of me?"

Peter groaned, trying to find a way to get through to her. "Look, ok, Danny's not Brad Pitt. Brad's gotta be at least six inches taller than him. And you, you're not… any of those woman you just rattled off, ok?"

She looked at him warily, nodding in tentative agreement. "Go on."

"There's clearly  _something_  between you. I've never seen him spend this much time with anyone, including Christina. And, God's honest truth, before this semester I'd only seen him smile twice. Once when he finished the Saturday crossword before he finished his coffee, and another time when I caught him jerking it to  _The Good Wife._ "

"Gross."

"Tell me about it... scarred for life now."

Surprisingly Peter's brand of consoling seemed to be doing the trick. Mindy picked herself up off the floor, straightening the hem of her skirt before looking up at him. "So, what's your point then?"

Peter was quiet for a second. What the hell had his point been? He scrambled to connect the declarations he'd made, looking for some common thread he could twist into a good bit of advice. "Weeelllll…" He dragged out the word uncomfortably. "Have you two ever actually, um, had the DTR conversation?" He shuddered even thinking about delving into that murky area with a girl.

She was quiet, eyes darting back and forth as she pondered his question. "Defined the relationship? Oh my god, we're not exclusive are we?" Her head dropped back against the door with a hollow thud.

"Um, well, I guess what I'm saying is, maybe Danny just needs some kind of motivation."

"Motivation? Like uh, mouth things? Because I already do that. What more motivation could there be?"

Peter rolled his eyes, shifting from his position on the bed to stand in front of her. "Um, TMI. No. I mean, he needs to know that he's not the only one that is open to spending time with other people." As if to illustrate his point, he drew one knuckle up the back of her arm, his own eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

His efforts resulted in a stinging slap across the cheek. "You creep! You're just trying to get in my pants!"

Peter recoiled, rubbing the red mark underneath his stubble. "You're not even wearing pants, woman! Relax, you're not my type anyway. I just meant we could make Danny jealous, let him know what it feels like. PRETEND, Mindy."

The thought had barely been articulated before a small little grin spread across Mindy's face. "You know, that might work."

"Of course it will. With my reputation, always swimming in poon-"

"Gross."

"- Danny won't be able to see straight when he sees us together."

The gears began to turn in Mindy's head, eyes emitting a dangerous glint as she fleshed out the scheme. It was a little scary to be honest, and Peter began to regret his suggestion before it had even started.

The gleaming clasp of her clutch caught his attention, the metal catching the light as she flipped it open. She hopped toward him, pulling out the object she'd been looking for, a tube of Mac Ruby Woo. Before he could stop her, she'd smeared a slash of the bright red across the edge of his collar. "There…"

Stepping back to appraise her work, she frowned. "Something's missing..." Before he could stop her, she lunged forward, lips planting firmly on his cheek, lingering for only a millisecond before peppering down his neck in a quick passionless succession.

"You smell like flowers." Where the hell had that come from? He shook his head, stepping back.

"And you smell like cheetos, dude, seriously? How can  _I_ not be  _your_ type? I'm basically a goddess."

"You're a smarty pants. So, I'll pass." He shrugged, partially unbuttoning his shirt, tugging the collar askew. "Quick, mess yourself up so it looks like we just made the beast with two backs. We'll stumble out into the main area and make a loud obnoxious display of ourselves before disappearing again."

She complied, tugging the strap of her dress aside. Her hair was an easy fix, already kind of mess from her recent bout of sobbing, she ran her hands through it one more time for good measure. Hooking her fingers into his belt loop, she dragged him to the door. "Let's do this."

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in update. Thanks for anyone who's still reading this. I really appreciate your encouragement.**


	13. Chapter 13

Saying the right thing was always hard for Danny. Words seemed to trickle back down his throat the moment they felt right, creeping into his stomach where they lived. Just because they felt right didn't mean they were. He'd learned that lesson the hard way.

Did it mean that the lining of his stomach would probably be a shredded mess of ulcers before he hit thirty? Probably, but that felt so much more bearable than the alternative.

His words had power, he'd learned, spilling out tinged with the faint blue of electricity as they sizzled in the air, zipping like lightning bolts unerringly to their targets. It was only when he was left to stare at the smoldering heap of ash that remorse would sweep over him. Too little too late, he supposed.

He knew it would be like that this time, clutching desperately as he was to the angry volleys of words that would fly loose if he just unclenched his jaw, if he just breathed out the venom he felt flowing through his veins.

The only alternative was to hit something. The wall, the door, anything solid would do, although the softly yielding muscle covering the not so delicate structure of Peter's eye socket would have been the most satisfying. His hands clenched at his sides in unison with the ticking muscle at his jaw.

It was hot. A thousand degrees judging from the sheen of sweat glistening on Mindy's skin as she wrapped herself sloppily around Peter, head tossing back in mirthful laughter every few minutes. Danny felt like a magnet for the heat, his tightly coiled anger drawing it into him.

His eyes were glued to the pair, watching them make a spectacle of themselves in front of half the campus population. They were both yelling along to the thunderingly loud music pumping through the speakers, each thud like a giant's heartbeat. Peter angled her toward the kitchen, and Danny felt himself drawn along, keeping them both in sight.

He pushed rudely through the hot press of people, getting more than a few angry glances. He shoved the latest impediment to the side, a pretty solid wall of muscle only moving slightly to the left.

"Watch it, asshole!"

Danny rocked back on his heels, casting a white hot glare up at his apparent guest. He felt some of the old instinctive Staten Island bravado bubble up, raising one hand to jab his index finger into the other man's chest. "YOU watch it, this is my god damned house."

There must have been something about the way he said it, or maybe it was just the decidedly not sane look in his dark visage, but the combative gleam faded from the taller man's eyes. He snorted nervously, moving away from Danny. "Whatever dude, relax."

The interaction took some of the wind out of Danny's sails, and replaced it with a bottomless feeling of relief as his stomach dropped out from beneath him. His anger was beginning to run out of steam, and a more logical part of his brain was asking him what exactly he thought he would've done up against someone who had at least a buck fifty on him, not to mention the foot and a half height differential.

Hell, his anger wasn't even directed at this guy, it was all for Peter... and Mindy. What the hell was she doing anyway? She'd looked ravished when she's tumbled out of Pete's bedroom, the fingers of one hand hooked in his roommate's belt as she dragged him along.

It was only now, stepping into the kitchen behind a group of raucous girls, "woo-ing" at every opportunity, that a more rational part of his brain began to kick in, easing the blinding jealousy back a bit.

He'd seen Mindy post-ravishment, legs all wobbly, sleepy smile plastered across her face. Hell, the image was burned into his retina. This… this wasn't the same.

He eyed her from across the room, watching her clumsily climb onto the kitchen island. She swept off about a dozen red solo cups, the contents of some splashing against the floor. It was all very showy, her voice clearly enunciating when she called out, "BODY SHOTS!"

Pete was the first in line, lime wedge in one hand, bottle of tequila in another. Before Mindy laid down on the island, she craned her neck around, searching for something.

Her eyes lit on Danny, and she quickly snapped her head around, focusing on the task at hand. The momentum that had carried Danny up until this point fizzled away. His eyebrows knitted as though he were trying to get through one of Garibaldi's more complex formulas. What the hell was she doing?

* * *

Mindy waited for the other shoe to drop, for Danny to insinuate himself into the scene she'd created, to put a stop to it. The dread rising up through her multiplied every minute that passed. What was he waiting for? She'd seen the hot flush shoot up his neck, his mouth snapping shut when she'd left Peter's room.

She regretted her plan almost immediately. He'd been standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, looking this way and that... looking for her... for the blonde?

Christina was wrapped around a skinny freshman in the corner. The woman kissed like it was an act of war, attacking her partner's lips, pressing him into the wall. Mindy almost laughed when Christina knocked away her makeout buddy's hands for the third time in as many minutes.

Clearly Danny didn't care, barely sparing two seconds to glance in the blonde's direction. He was out of place; his button up and slightly rumpled tie were accentuated by the shadow of stubble along his jaw. It was like someone's dad had been inadvertently invited to a rager. The party-goers subconsciously gave Danny a wide berth. How was it possible for someone to look so alone in a room packed with so many people?

Then his eyes had found her, blinking as he tried to decipher the scene. She'd turned away in embarrassment when he'd flushed with anger. She felt like an idiot, but it was too late to turn back now.

The backs of her legs were sliding against cool tile of the kitchen island, the skirt of her dress riding up as she wiggled into place. She caught his eyes one last time, a chill going through her when she registered the absence of emotion in his face. He was just blank, hatches battened down, shutters drawn, pick your damn metaphor.

It made her feel sick, stomach flipping as she leaned back, waiting for Peter to pour salt in the little hollow at the base of her neck. There was already a shot glass nestled in her cleavage (thank god for push-up bras). The distinct smell of agave spirits crept into her sinuses, spilling down the back of her throat as she took a breath. She made a show of taking the lime from his hand, tossing her head back so her hair fanned out behind her. The citrus was tart against her tongue as she held the wedge between her teeth.

Peter leaned forward, the curls on the top of his head brushing the underside of Mindy's chin just before the flat of his tongue swept across her collarbone. The unpleasant sensation only lasted a second, his head dipping down low to pluck the shot glass from her deceptive decolletage. He was a pro, doing it all hands free, the tip of his nose brushing against the smooth skin just over her sternum.

Her head tilted forward slightly. Eager for him to get this over with, she practically spat the lime into his mouth before scrambling off the island. In her haste, she slipped, falling almost comically into a heap in the kitchen floor. Hair flipped across her face, the strands sticking to her sweaty skin as she struggled to right herself.

Someone gripped her arm firmly, more firmly than needed if you asked Mindy. Before she could protest the rough treatment, she felt herself being hauled abruptly off the floor, a second hand sweeping the mass of hair from her face.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Danny. She jerked away from him, slipping from his grasp easily. "What's it to you?"

There it was again, that flush of anger creeping up the back of his neck. Mindy wondered if he realized he had such an obvious tell. His ears grew brighter as he worked his jaw. It was so plain to Mindy that he was biting his tongue, and it pissed her off. Why was it so damn hard for him to just fucking say something… about anything?

She hadn't realized until this very moment just how closemouthed he'd always been. She tried desperately to think of a time when he'd ever told her how he felt, but she kept coming up blank. He could talk for hours about the unintended ramifications of prohibition (thanks a lot Ken Burns) but ask him how his day was and all Mindy ever got was a noncommittal grunt and a tense shrug.

She could feel it though, she swore, in the past weeks he would look at her and she could feel every emotion coursing through his body. She'd thought one of those was something akin to love, or even affection, but now all she felt was… disappointment? That didn't make any sense. He looked angrier than she'd ever seen him, but all she could feel was this soul crushing disappointment. "What IS it to you, Danny? You have a problem with me enjoying the company of other guys?" She blinked, trying to stay focused on the logic that she'd clung to while crying in Peter's bedroom. "It's not like we're exclusive!"

She was yelling now, trying to be heard over the music, over the dull roar of the party. Waiting for an answer, she watched his mouth drop open and close almost as quickly. A scream of frustration swelled up in the back of her throat. Squelching it, she spun around, looking for Peter fruitlessly. Damn it. He was in on this, the least he could do was stick around when things got awkward. It wasn't until she tried to storm away dramatically that she realized she'd twisted her ankle pretty badly when she fell off the island. The same damn ankle she'd hurt the night Danny had found her flailing in the grass.

Her arms sprang outward as the weakened joint failed her, and she went flying into the floor a second time, only this time she landed directly on her elbow. The subsequent scream was blood curdling. Well, it would have been if the ambient noise hadn't all but drowned it out. Still, Danny was at her side in seconds, this time his hands fell all over her, gently probing for injuries. Mindy gasped sharply when he poked at her elbow.

"Anything else hurt?"

She nodded, tears welling up. "My ankle."

He lifted her, again, only this time he was far gentler, adam's apple bobbing up and down as he studied her face. She couldn't help it when the tears spilled over, splashing down her cheeks. He looked away, eyes fluttering as he blinked rapidly. He snatched an unused stool and made her perch on it. "Wait here."

And then he disappeared, swimming through the crowd as he made his way back to the living room. She didn't know what the hell was happening, but resolved to do exactly as he said. She wasn't leaving this house until they'd actually had a conversation.

Her breathing began to steady, and she half heartedly attempted to make herself look more presentable, using a lonely paper towel to pat away the sheen of sweat from her skin. She folded it carefully, but something neon green and sticky was stuck to the underside. Letting it flutter to the floor, she used her fingers to comb out her tangled locks.

She was absorbed in the task of unravelling a particularly snarled knot when the thumping bass of Peter's sound system abruptly stopped. There was a moment of raucous yelling as people continued to speak at the same volume before they realized how unnecessary it was, then, for only a second or two, it was eerily quiet. The tranquility was immediately supplanted by irritated groans.

She heard a commotion coming from the other room, and conveniently forgot her promise to stay where she was, hopping like an injured rabbit so she could see what was going on. Danny had climbed onto the coffee table in the living room, kicking away the debris that had collected there. He straightened. "Alright, you all have exactly five minutes to get out of my fucking house, or I call the cops."

* * *

Peter watched as his vertically challenged roommate attempted break up the party. In other circumstances he would have been indignant, and probably would have suggested Danny be the one to leave.

But this was different. In the kitchen, Peter had bent to help Mindy up after she'd fallen in the least graceful way possible (seriously, no one was that top heavy - she toppled over head first like an out of control crane, and still somehow managed to land wrong on her foot), but Danny had stepped in front of him menacingly before he could help.

Peter wasn't an idiot; he knew when to slink away like a coward. Even now he was still partially hidden by a sickly looking ficus. He flicked away one of the dying leaves obstructing his view, and watched Danny's pathetic attempts to get everyone's attention.

The only people that paid him any mind were those in his immediate vicinity, but they merely shrugged and scooted away from him. Peter tried to tamp down the gradually increasing sympathy he felt, the tiny almost mute voice telling him that  _maybe_  his advice for Mindy hadn't been the best. Damn, Danny looked so done. Done with the music, the beer, the people. The man was entirely out of his element, and possibly on the verge of snapping. Sighing, Peter withdrew from his hiding place and grabbed his trusty megaphone before sidling up to Danny.

Danny was still yelling over the din, gesticulating wildly every few briefly wondered if this is what Napoleon looked like when rallying the troops. He shook the thought away before reaching up to tap Danny on the shoulder.

Danny whirled on him, chest puffed out with his latest deep breath, ready to let loose one more time. The words died on his lips when he saw Peter.

"What the hell is that?"

"A megaphone," Peter said in a very matter of fact tone.

"I know what it is, idiot. Why do you have it?" Danny was still yelling, only more pointedly.

"For yelling at pledges, judging wet t-shirt contests, and clearing out house parties."

Danny continued to glare, but snatched the thing from Peter's hands.

He repeated his threat. "PARTY'S OVER. EVERYONE OUT OR I'M CALLING THE COPS!"

This time his voice rang out across the house, the crackling speaker cutting through the murmur of voices. Some people started to shuffle out the door while another group who'd apparently misheard the announcement practically stampeded toward the exit.

Danny watched them go, for the first time all night his tensed up shoulders fell just a little. He caught Mindy staring at him from the doorway, and jumped down off the table. The expression on his face was unreadable as he walked toward her, still not saying a word. Peter decided that maybe it would be a good idea for him to go with the flow of foot traffic and get the hell out of dodge.

Danny ushered Mindy back into Peter's room, helping her onto the bed, even propping her foot up with a pillow. "Mindy, stay here, please. I mean it."

And with that he was gone again.

* * *

Within minutes there was a nervous tapping on the door, and Mindy stared at it in confusion. "Uh… come in?"

Maggie's blonde mop poked out from behind the half opened door, her eyes wide as she peered into the dimly lit room. "Mindy?"

"Present and accounted for."

Maggie slipped inside the room, pushing the door shut behind her. "We gotta split, Lahiri. Someone called the cops and I already have one and a half strikes so..." She trailed off, looking at Mindy's ankle in confusion. "What happened to you?"

"I ruined everything."

"Did you talk to him?"

Mindy shook her head no, eyes squeezing shut as she relived the past couple hours. "Nothing's like I thought it would be."

Maggie frowned. She wasn't used to seeing Mindy like this. Despondent. It was almost surreal. "Mindy, he's just a guy, he's not-"

"No. Not him. I mean, yes him, but not  _just_  him." She stopped, fighting for control over her voice. She hated when it trembled, the vibrations at the back of her throat, little breakages in the tone. "It's everything. I thought I would be different here, that my naturally effervescent personality would shine and everyone I met would just fall at my feet in admiration. It's so silly, I know, but I still wanted it to happen at least once." Her voice broke in earnest this time but she pushed on. "But everything is a fight, a struggle. Danny didn't like me in the beginning, and Brendan liked me fine, but it was the same way he liked the park bench, or a fucking lamppost. I was just there." She gulped, remembering Danny's comments about lamps.

Maggie wasn't sure how to respond, watching this little breakdown made her want to go out and pummel each of the dickheads that made Mindy feel like this. "Guys are idiots, hon."

"It's not just guys. You asked me why I hadn't rushed a sorority? Have you seen those girls? It's like  _Stepford Wives: The Prequel._ All blonde, blue eyes, sports illustrated bodies. They're not girls interested. The girls here barely talk to me."

She was crying now, not sobbing like before, but an inescapable kind of tears, rolling down her cheeks as she spoke.

"Make them interested, Mindy. That's how you roll..."

"It's just exhausting sometimes, Maggie. Why do I have to work so hard for it? Why can't it ever just ..." She stopped, dashing the tears away from her face. "I thought he was different, that he liked me the moment he met me, that his resistance was just... a front."

"I don't think-"

"And I don't even know what exactly it is about me that he doesn't like. I can usually tell, you know. Too loud, too girly, too smart, too obsessed with reality television. If I know, then I can change it."

Maggie opened her mouth to argue this point, but the gentle clearing of a throat interrupted her. Danny was standing in the doorway, a ziplock bag of ice in one hand, a bottle of aspirin in the other.

Mindy glanced nervously between them, wondering how much Danny had heard. Hot embarrassment cascaded over her skin, and she could feel her heart beating in all of her fingertips.

"I brought ice... for your ankle." His voice was hoarse, crackling a little on the vowels, probably from all the yelling earlier, or maybe he'd snuck out and smoked a few cigarettes.

Suddenly the air was thick, and Maggie found it a little bit suffocating. She shifted uncomfortably, eyebrows shooting up slightly at Mindy in inquiry. "You need me to stay? Get you a ride home? Your wish is my command."

Maggie's words were infused with a somewhat forced joviality, but Mindy appreciated it no less. "Danny can bring me home... if he needs to."

Maggie took her cue and left. The room was quiet, and all Mindy could hear was the slight rattling in Danny's chest as he took a deep breath. Stupid cigarettes.

Wordlessly he came to her, wrapping the plastic bag of ice in a clean tee before settling it against her swollen ankle. His hands were gentle, rubbing small comforting circles against the joint.

"You need to be more careful," He said gruffly. "Keep injuring the same ankle and you're gonna have problems with it later."

"Danny."

"I brought some aspirin. It should help with the pain, and maybe the swelling, but-"

"Danny."

"- you really need to have an X-ray, you could have torn-"

"DANNY STOP IT! STOP TALKING AND  _TALK_ TO ME!"

He blinked warily at her, waiting for the death knell.

"Danny, we just need to talk. I can't be cool, obviously. So... " She swallowed nervously. "S-so I'm either your girlfriend, or we should just call this off."

**A/n: Wow that was a long chapter. I hope I didn't bore anyone to tears, and I hope the readers of this little fic haven't dwindled due to the time between updates. I have an end in sight. I promise (although its kind of way off in the distance). Please feel free to let me know what you think if you're still reading.**


	14. Chapter 14

By the time Danny had filled the half-gallon ziploc bag with ice, his anger at Mindy had dissipated. He was left wondering if it had even really been anger to begin with, and not just overpowering jealousy. Either way, it made him feel ashamed. A man should be able to control himself.

There was a hollowness in his chest left by the volatile emotion’s departure, and he could already feel the guilt creeping up to replace it. The guilt was heavy, oozing into the empty chambers of his heart. This was a feeling he was used to.

His decision to keep their relationship quiet had not really been about hiding impropriety, although that had been a handy excuse. It was just that Danny knew, one way or another, this thing with Mindy would eventually crash and burn. Keeping it on the down low had been an easy way to guard himself against the pain he knew would eventually come. At least this way, he could bury it, and pretend none of it had ever happened. There would be no one around to pity Daniel Castellano and his inability to not fuck up relationships.

He sat the bag of ice down on the counter, leaning forward to steady himself. He felt unexpectedly weak, the faintest hint of a tremor twitching at his fingertips. He could only attribute it to the after effects of adrenalin, muscles unclenching, suddenly out of whatever stored energy they’d held. The countertop was cool against his fingers, and he closed his eyes, concentrating on the sensation as he took deep steady breaths.

The only problem with his logic was that it hadn’t put any real distance between them, and that with each passing day he’d felt himself slip a little bit closer to the point of no return. When she laughed it made him feel like he was standing on top of the tallest mountain in the world, like not even the strongest magnitude earthquake could tumble him from its peak. Her joy filled him to the brim and left him drunk on an emotion he had little experience with. He forgot for a moment who he was, and wanted nothing more than to continue making her laugh for the rest of her life. In the haze of rose colored glasses, it seemed like a noble endeavor.

And yet, soaring from such great heights only made him more wary of the drop, so he clung to the one thing that seemed to pull him down from this dangerous ascent. Somewhere along the line he understood that not telling anyone was beginning to wear on her. Her usually bright chatter would slow to almost nothing in the mornings as he drove her back to campus. Each monosyllabic response he got from her was like ice water shooting through his veins, and when her shoulders hunched forward and she looked down to the ground as she walked away, he felt like the worst kind of asshole.

Snatching the bag from the counter, he spun on his heel turning to leave the kitchen. But he stopped short, confronted with Christina framed in the doorway like a piece of modern art, all angles and contrivance. He wondered how he’d never noticed just how hard she worked on her artist persona. She was looking at him strangely, her lips curved up slightly in an enigmatic little half smile. “Great party, the end was especially entertaining.”

“What are you still doing here?” He didn’t bother to hide the irritation in his voice, hoping she would take a hint and high tail it out of there. He waited silently for her response, cold from the ice slowly seeping its way through the plastic bag and into the joints of his hand. He felt the tell tale ache in his knuckles before they began to go numb.

“You were my ride here, remember?”

“Are you kidding me?”

She frowned, eyebrows drawing together in irritation. “Do I sound like I’m kidding? Why else would I still be here? Certainly not for the titillating conversation.”

There it was, that familiar sound of disgust in her voice. Danny had almost forgotten how she could sharpen her words and hurl them like knives at anyone within hearing. His jaw clenched, involuntarily, his body deciding not to engage in this interaction. The bag of ice dropped to the counter and he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

The number he dialed rang only once before an overly cheerful voice answered. Danny rattled off his address and his credit card number from memory, and ended the call before Christina could interrupt him. “There, called you a cab. The dispatcher said there was one five minutes away. Lucky really, Saturday night, so close to campus.”

She rolled her eyes and leaned into the door frame, apparently intent on not going anywhere. “How very gentlemanly of you, Danny.” She eyed the bag of ice on the counter. “Did you hurt yourself? Or is it for the jailbait I saw limping around here earlier?”

There was a devious gleam in her eyes, but Danny ignored it, picking up the ice in question and shoving past her unceremoniously. “You can wait outside, it’s not that cold.”

“When did you become such a dick?”

Danny ignored her question, instead walking to the door and holding it open. Christina may have been annoyed, but she could take a hint. Shaking her head, she followed him. “Look, let’s not leave things like this just because you have some co-ed fawning all over you. You’ll regret it when I’m in town again and whatever you have going on with her has inevitably fizzled out. I know you, ok?”

“You don’t.”

“I do. I really do, Danny. It’s not like you’ll even be here much longer, anyway. What the hell are you doing messing around with a freshman?” She scoffed at him. “What are you gonna do, Danny, write her letters from med school between intubating patients and taking out catheters?” She laughed. “Are you gonna skype with her Danny? Ugh, can you imagine being in a long distance relationship during your first couple years at college? I mean, unless she’s some kind of socially awkward shut-in...”

Christina trailed off, waiting for Danny to contradict her, but he remained taciturn, holding the door open as he stared her down.

Waving away his glare, she strode past him out into the cool night. “Look, you can have your fun with the exotic little flower, but when things go to shit, and they will, just know I was actually visiting this time to see if we could date for real. You’ve always been kind of special to me, and now that I’m back on the east coast...” She trailed off, waiting for him to take the bait. When he didn’t, she sighed and continued. “I got an apprenticeship at a major photography studio in Manhattan. Look me up when you come back to New York.”

He only stared at her quietly, the blank expression on his face giving her no clue to his thoughts. Finally, she gave up and dashed down the front steps, leaving Danny staring out into the darkness. He shut the door behind her, droplets of cold water slipping down the outside of the plastic bag as he walked slowly back to Peter’s bedroom. Christina’s words circled in and out of his head. He’d never even thought about what would happen when he finally graduated and left.

He’d known for a while that he was bad for Mindy, like a slow working poison slipped into her orange juice each morning. Not enough to kill her, but enough to put clouds behind her eyes, weigh down her boundless joy until it could barely break the surface. He didn’t know how much longer it could go on like this. Sure, he kept telling himself that once the semester was over, and they were out in the open, things would be better, they would be better, but was that true? They’d have three and a half months to date openly before he had to go back home and start looking for ways to put himself through med school.

And Mindy? She wasn’t what he’d expected from the beginning, not really. There was a genuine care for other people under the seemingly shallow exterior she presented the world. When he talked to her, she listened like an enthralled child at storytime, her soft brown eyes watching him closely. She poked and prodded sometimes, like whatever he gave her was never enough. All these little pieces of him ended up tucked safely under her ribs next to her heart. He was always waiting for the moment she decided she had enough,  yet she always came back looking for more. How would that work when there were hundreds of miles between them? When long hard days made him quiet and gruff over a cracking cell phone connection? It wouldn’t be good for her.

He paused in front of the bedroom, the heavy oak door slightly ajar. Something paralyzed him. Tonight had just been a prime example of how badly things could go, how much he could really hurt her. Christina was right, to a certain degree, about Mindy being so young. It wasn’t fair to expect her to always act mature, or to commit herself to a relationship that she got so little from. Danny could already see the things he was causing her to miss, the milestones she should have been experiencing when curled up next to him watching HBO specials. How long would a long distance relationship last before some closer warm body offered her more than him? Hell, that was something he’d honestly been expecting from the very beginning.

Voices from the other side of the door caught his attention, breaking the paralysis in his limbs as he leaned closer to inch wide crack. Mindy was crying softly, pouring out her heart to a friend Danny had never even met. He listened to her insecurities, knowing that he was somehow invading her privacy eavesdropping like this, but he couldn’t stop himself. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest when she said, “Why do I have to work so hard for it?” The anguish he’d caused sliced through him, and it was all he could do not burst into the room and gather her up in his arms, to beg her not to cry. Then she said something that truly broke his heart.

“And I don't even know what exactly it is about me that he doesn't like. I can usually tell, you know. Too loud, too girly, too smart, too obsessed with reality television. If I know, then I can change it.”

He took a breath, he pushed open the door, blinking away the moisture that had begun to pool in his eyes. Emotions still thick in his throat, he coughed slightly to get the girls’ attention. “I brought ice… for your ankle.”

Mindy looked up at him, tear stained visage sucking all the air out of his lungs. It hurt. A physical pain tearing at him from the inside. He suspected this is what it felt like to have a punctured lung, or maybe an aortic dissection. Whatever damage he was inflicting would only be worse in three months time. He felt a calm descend over him, the certainty that he was about to make the right decision for the both of them stopped the constantly spinning thoughts. It was for her own good.

* * *

 

Mindy held her breath, the ultimatum still echoing against the walls of Peter’s room. Danny simply stared at her, lips parted as a sigh escaped him. She almost didn’t hear his softly spoken response.

“You’re right.”

She released the breath, relief riding on the whooshing flow of air. She leaned forward to kiss him, happiness beginning to replace the despair she’d been feeling only moments before, but he stopped her, settling one cold hand against her shoulder.

Confusion twisted her features, the corners of her mouth twitching down in an involuntary grimace. “I’m right?”

His hand dropped to her lap, threading his fingers through her own. She’d only begun to notice how the lights in the room were reflected in his eyes, in the tears welled up there. He swallowed.

She watched his adam’s apple bob up and down like it had some sort of hypnotic power. “This isn’t happening.” Had she said it out loud? It was hard to tell. Danny was still staring at her like he was trying to memorize every little detail of her face,  his chilly fingers clutching desperately at hers. She could feel her own warmth seeping into his skin as it wicked away the cold.

“We should call it off.” The words barely pushed past his vocal chords, harsh and raspy as they fought to get free.

She shook her head, the motion causing her own tears to cascade down her cheeks. She hated the feeling, the hot liquid trickling down her chin and onto her chest. “No, no. I was bluffing, Danny.”  Lunging forward she crashed her lips against his, kissing him desperately. She didn’t wait for him to respond before pulling back to continue her argument.  “We can keep doing this. It’s fine. It’s great. Please--” Her voice broke, as a sob crested.

He pushed her gently back, one hand lingering on her cheek. He caught her tears with the pad of his thumb, drawing little half circles on her skin as they continued to fall. Mindy watched his adam’s apple bob up and down, up and down, up and down.

“I don’t like hurting you.”

“Then don’t! I can deal with being cool. I can.” She was hiccuping through the tears now, and she felt like a child but couldn’t stop. “and… and… anything else… I’m stronger than you think.” Her assertion was severely undermined by the way her voice broke on the last syllable.

He shook his head, finally withdrawing completely. His hands hung between his knees, the floor suddenly a focal point as he spoke. “It’s not that simple. Even if I were perfect, which I’m not and never will be, this relationship has an expiration date that neither of us has any control over.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ll be leaving in May, and you’ll still be here.”

“We could do long distance! Or I could transfer to a school closer to you, or--”

He cut her off. “That’s not fair. You deserve more than that.” His head popped back up again, and he looked at her intensely, something akin to anger in his eyes. “You want more than that, and I don’t want you to try and tell yourself otherwise. You shouldn’t change for me, or anyone else. I know what that’s like, and it makes you hate the person you’re with. I don’t want you to hate me, Mindy. I couldn’t take it.”

“You don’t know what’s going to happen! Stop talking like you have a crystal ball. We can try.”

She reached for him again, but he stood up, slipping from her grasp. “No.” The conversation was clearly over. He was struggling to school his features into an emotionless mask. He stopped at the doorway, and Mindy wanted to punch him in the throat so she wouldn’t have to see his damn adam’s apple bob up and down one more time. “I’ll get Pete to take you home.”

He turned to leave, but she couldn’t let him leave. “Why did you kiss me, Danny? Why did you even start this?”

He opened his mouth to answer her, but nothing came out, chin dropping as he tried to find an answer. Looking down at the floor, he took a deep breath and Mindy knew she’d lost. He croaked out an apology and disappeared.

* * *

 

Mindy went home for Christmas break. She moped around her childhood home like someone who’d recently been lobotomized, only responding to the most direct inquiries her mother and brother threw at her.

Checking her grades, she was surprised to find she’d aced all of her classes, even though she’d been at her most miserable during finals week. Danny had had the grace to not sit in on Garibaldi’s last few classes. It was a blessing, she supposed, but it had hurt almost as much as seeing him would have.

Her mom watched her like she was trying to figure out whether or not to intervene. A heartbroken Mindy wasn’t something she had a lot of experience with. Amarita Lahiri

knew what to say when her daughter came home sobbing about being pantsed in the girls’ locker room. She knew what to say to a distraught little girl who’d had about six inches of hair chopped off because an obnoxious little boy decided it was a good place for gum, but she had no idea how to deal with a daughter who was basically sleepwalking through her life.

She supposed there was nothing really to say. These things had a way of simply running their course, and Mindy had always been extremely strong willed, so she let her be. Mindy was grateful. She didn’t think her mother would quite understand. Hell, Mindy herself didn’t really understand. She could admit now that she’d fallen in love with Danny, but to try and explain to her mother that “he broke up with me because he thought we would break up” was something she just didn’t know how to do. She was still trying to explain it to herself.

There was a persistent voice in her head, especially at night, that whispered maybe it was all just an excuse, that he’d been tired of her, tired of the stupid game she’d begun the night of the party. The voice sounded a little like Maggie, but it had echoes of Brendan and Peter too. By the end of Christmas break, she’d thoroughly convinced herself that he’d just been too old for her, an uptight old guy that couldn’t handle a little drama and excitement in his life. It almost scared her how quickly she was able to move from tragically heartbroken, to moderately pissed that he’d been such a coward.

The first week of the spring semester passed without incident. She didn’t even see Danny, holding her breath each time she attended a new class. Was it disappointment that flooded her when she didn’t find his dark head hunched over a stack of paper, or was it relief? The emotions seemed too similar to really tell apart.

There were a few times that she did see him from afar, trudging across campus, smoking one of his disgusting cigarettes. On those occasions she felt words bubbling up through her, her lungs filling with air as she prepared to yell across the quad at him. Luckily she had a modicum of self control, and merely stomped into the nearest building.

She began to think that maybe he was avoiding her, which pleased and hurt her in equal measure. She was so sick of these conflicting feelings. After almost an entire semester of this, Maggie had what might have been called an intervention, dragging Mindy to a sorority mixer on campus. Mindy was surprised to find she had a great time, talking to the other girls about fashion and the latest Kardashian drama.

Eventually she forgot about Danny, or at least the bottomless chasm inside of her chest started to feel not quite so bottomless. Sure, there were times when she caught a whiff of some guy’s aftershave and her stomach would drop to her toes and her breath would catch painfully, but by the end of the semester those occurrences became more and more infrequent.

And that was when she met Tom, or at least when she was introduced to him. He claimed they’d been in organic chemistry together in the fall, something about her nearly running him over once as she left class. She didn’t recall it, but he’d described her with stunning clarity, and it had been quite flattering.

Tom was a friend of a friend of a friend, or something. She didn’t really know how they’d come to be standing on opposite sides of a keg on a balmy spring night, but it didn't’ really matter. He was nice, cracking stupid jokes and pumping the tap like a professional. So what if the beer came up all foamy and undrinkable. She didn’t like beer anyway.

He was tall too. The first time she’d kissed him, she’d been standing on the curb by his car, and he’d been in the street, and she’d still had to stand on her tiptoes. It was nice. His cologne kind of smelled like vanilla, and she figured she could use someone as predictable as Tom. He wanted to be a dentist, and everyone knew dentists never had heartbreaking conversations fraught with passionate self loathing as they tore out their girlfriends’ hearts. The only things dentists tore out were teeth.

  
Mindy barely even noticed when a new car started parking in Danny’s spot.

**A/N: Sorry for how long it took me to update this. I just haven't been in the mood to write really, and this story in particular kind of kicks my butt when I try to start a new chapter. It's not the end, even though I think it seems like it, there will be more chapters. I have a loose outline plotted out in my head, so hopefully I'll be able to stick to it. Comments and are appreciated greatly. I hate to admit it, but feedback is a big reason that I write fanfiction. I don't really know how else to explain it.**


	15. Chapter 15

No one would describe Danny Castellano as a happy man. He frowned when he rode the subway, hands tucked into his pockets as though he was afraid someone would try and trick him into a friendly handshake. Little children hid behind their mother's legs as he glowered down at them, the seam of his lips a near constant straight line. The first year after he graduated college passed uneventfully, each day an only slightly mutated clone of the one before it. Every minute of every hour was some how devoted to memorizing medical conditions and terminology, tiny white earbuds pumping out audiobooks as he washed dishes after the five o'clock dinner rush.

It wasn't unusual for entire days to pass wherein Danny didn't speak in anything other than monosyllables, outside of class anyway. He was pretty sure Mr. Torrio thought he was mute . On the weekends, he'd visit his mother, check in on Richie before heading home to a solitary dinner. Sometimes people tried to draw him out. His next door neighbor always seemed to have something to say about the Yankees while standing at their mailboxes, but Danny hardly ever responded with anything other than a grunt. He didn't have the time or inclination for personal relationships.

He settled into a groove that he would have been very content to continue in indefinitely, but the universe seemed to have other plans. When his mother called him, sobbing about not being able to give her sons the life they deserved, he'd sighed grandly and agreed to pay for the fancy arts school that Richie had gotten into. Med school could wait, it wasn't going anywhere.

One thing had led to another, and Danny landed back on Staten Island, working under the table construction jobs. It derailed his grand plan for two years. With each passing month his life of contentment got smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror, but he shrugged it off. He was used to seemingly infinite delayed gratification.

The last person he ever expected to change his life for the better was Christina.

He met up with her a few months after moving back to his mother's. Initially, the sight of her filled him with irritation, something hard sticking in the back of his throat. She represented everything he couldn't have, a life of ease that just seemed to fall into her lap, social graces that escaped him. It rankled, but she was persistent, calling him just enough to slip back into their old rhythms. What the hell, he could admit that the loneliness got to him sometimes.

She did seem different this time around, cuddling with him the cold morning light, asking him to stay at her place. Eventually he moved in with her. It wasn't a big deal, in fact neither of them actually said anything about it. His toothbrush suddenly materialized in the bathroom, a drawer full of tee shirts and a few pairs of jeans neatly folded in the bottom of her dresser. He didn't actually have a lot of possessions really, just his clothes and a few pictures. The really valuable and important things he left at his mother's. Christina didn't like his taste in decor anyway, so it hadn't really mattered.

Then, for the first time in his life, the answer to all of his problems fell directly in his lap. At first it was just modeling, one of Christina's colleagues had said they needed an average size guy with darker features to even out a shoot he was doing, and his pictures had been passed around some. One thing led to another and suddenly he was getting a call from an entrepreneur that represented professional modeling entertainment. Danny knew right away that they were male strippers, all euphemisms aside.

He pocketed the guy's business card, never giving it any real consideration until Richie ended up in the hospital with appendicitis. The bills were staggering, and every time he turned around there were more of them, until one day it seemed like he was going to have to give up on going to med school altogether. He swallowed his pride and fished the card out of his coat pocket, and dialed the number with trembling fingers.

It really wasn't that bad, mostly private parties, drunk middle aged women blushing and tentatively touching his abs. Sometimes they got more handsy, but it wasn't anything Danny couldn't handle. And it wasn't the full monty either, turns out that's not even a popular thing, which relieved Danny more than he cared to admit.

The agency he worked for was staggeringly popular, and even though Danny was smaller than some of the other guys, there was a certain grace to his dancing that had party planners calling to book him week after week. Those ballet classes in high school were finally paying off it seemed. But still, when he got to these places it was hard for him to get into the right mindset. He would hear the crowd in the other room, music thumping through the walls, and half the time he contemplated walking right back out the door and down the street. He tried talking to Christina about it, but she didn't understand where his guilt was coming from. "Ugh, you're so catholic sometimes."

She said it like it like it was a curse word, wrinkling her nose to punctuate the statement. So he just stopped talking about it at all. He would pretend he was working normal jobs when both of them knew what was really going on. She didn't care anyway, one way or another, as long as he showed up to her gallery openings, and smiled at her friends.

His mother gave him hell about living with a woman without being married. Christina had only shrugged and said, "Well, let's get married then. I have a couple days off next week. We can go down to the courthouse."

And that was that, no sweeping proposal, no diamond ring, no big white dress. Just a pair of plain gold bands, and a Justice of the Peace smiling down at them. His mom stood beside them with her lips pursed, foot tapping on the tile while they signed the paperwork. Danny was almost grateful his mother was so beholden to him, it helped her bite her tongue in situations like this.

A part of Danny appreciated the no nonsense way Christina looked at marriage. Nothing changed after the papers were filed. The apartment still looked the same, she still took off across the country to take pictures of this or that. Danny still worked all hours. It was a far cry from the passionate union his parents had once had. Their big Italian wedding had been loud and boisterous, and it had ended in equally loud arguments, his father retreating like a coward in the night.

So yes, he was content in their little apartment in the city, only a ferry ride away from his mother and brother. The walls were a little thin, and he always knew what his neighbors were having for dinner, but it was theirs.

He watched his bank account grow larger and larger, until one day everything that had been taken away was suddenly possible again. It took a while to sort out the paperwork and classes, but eventually he was readmitted into the medical program (he was lucky his MCAT scores were through the roof). He'd spent all summer reacquainting himself with the anatomy textbooks and medical journals he'd been neglecting.

He may not have been happy, but he was closer to it than he'd been in a very long time. He was happy to be able to shove the fat envelope of cash into his mother's hands every week, happy to see Richie thriving at the new school, tennis trophies lining the shelves of his bedroom. He was happy that even though his goal had been delayed it was still possible. It should have been enough, but when his heart beat there was a hollow echo deep in his chest, like the knocking inside an empty oil drum. Something was still off, and he hadn't the faintest clue about what he was still searching for.

He wanted nothing more than to stay in tonight, cook a big meal and drink some good wine. He knew this weekend would be the last time he had any free time on his hands. He both dreaded and looked forward to the stress and constant work that was coming his way, but one last night vegging out in front of the tv was a more than tempting prospect. Instead, he cooked a quick dinner, eating his portion and tucking Christina's tupperware bowls into the fridge for later.

He didn't understand her work sometimes. The pictures just looked like something he would have snapped from the passenger side of his dad's car, cracked facades of old buildings, out of focus city lights. It seemed to upset her that he didn't take her work seriously, but he couldn't really see the point in it all. Kudos to her for being able to make money off of it, but that's as far as he was willing to go.

She'd taken to working at night lately, something about "noir lighting" and "capturing the city mid-decay." He'd tried not to roll his eyes at her pictures of blurred street lamps and less than enthused hookers. Arguing about the hours she kept was hardly worth it, since he worked nights mostly anyway. The tendrils of loneliness were beginning to creep back in, and he wanted so desperately to hunt her down and plunk her down on the couch, even if she just wanted to watch some weird art house film. Which said a lot, since her last movie night selection had left him queasy for hours.

"God Danny, you're a med student, get over it. It's not even real."

"Look a man expects a film called  _An Andalusian Dog_  to be a film about a DOG and not about some weird guy  _slicing up a girl's eyeball_!"

"It's Salvador Dali. Have some culture."

He'd skulked off to the fire escape to smoke while she finished the short film, seething at her condescending tone. He wouldn't have sought solitude then if he'd known it would be thrust upon him like this later. Sometimes he thought he imagined having a wife, that it was all a strange dream. He woke up alone often enough for this thought to give him genuine pause, but there was always the picture of her on his nightstand to remind him, that yes, he was married. He wasn't alone.

Getting ready to work had become a ritual to Danny. He shaved, because that's what they expected. His entire body actually, until he felt like a sixteen year old boy again, smoothing lotion over his skin. Danny had felt funny doing it at first, but Christina had taken a few candid photos of him when she'd noticed. It sparked a little vanity in him, and he shivered when she took to sprinkling little kisses over him during lovemaking. It triggered pleasant memories of the past, and he clung to them in spite of himself.

He dressed simply, the soft cotton tee clinging to the ridges of his chest. These parties went one of two ways. The women either wanted to live out some strange working man fantasy, and all he really needed was a plain white tee and a gently worn pair of jeans, or they wanted some ridiculously elaborate fantasy, in which case costumes were usually provided. He never really knew what the deal was until he arrived.

Knowing he wouldn't get back until after the sun rose anyway, he turned off all the lights in the little apartment and slipped off his wedding ring. It clattered in the little bowl by the front door. It was always the very last thing he did before going to work, and the first thing he grabbed when he came back through the door.

* * *

New York City was officially the worst place on earth. Mindy had tried valiantly to cling to the image of the big apple that Carrie Bradshaw had created for her, but she had no brunch friends, the subways smelled like stale urine and someone had just stolen her one and only designer handbag. No phone, no money, no keys, and worst of all, no metro card. The trek back to her apartment seemed endless, her shoes pinching and rubbing. The next step she took elicited a strangled gasp. On top of everything else there was a blister the size of a quarter on her heel.

She felt the tears well up at she trudged along sidewalk, native New Yorkers barely sparing her a second glance. You'd think they saw distraught women with running mascara limping along the streets every single day. She wanted to scream, to run cackling through the streets, tear at her clothes and wail like a lunatic, anything to get their attention. Surely people couldn't be so jaded.

The lost bag had been a graduation present, vintage Chanel, soft buttery stitched leather the very definition of extravagant. She'd only felt somewhat like a fraud pairing it with her department store dress and a pair of heels she's totally jacked from Gwen's closet.

But now it was gone. She'd mistakenly set it down on a table in a cute little coffee shop for FIVE seconds, and some hipster in a herringbone jacket and a plethora of unnecessary scarves had dashed out the door with it. She sighed, wincing in time to her measured steps. Somehow this armpit of a city had managed to flush every ounce of optimism that Mindy had down the drain, probably ending up in the Hudson River with all the other stinking garbage.

Luckily, Mindy had a pretty great sense of direction, and she managed to walk home without further incident, leaning heavily against the door as she pressed the buzzer. "Gwen, hello? I lost my keys."

Apparently the universe was done knocking her down today, because Gwen immediately buzzed her up, the lock clicking in the door. She hurried through the lobby, yanking off her shoes before ascending the three flights of stairs barefoot.

The door to their tiny apartment was unlocked when Mindy reached it, panting. She quickly stashed Gwen's heels behind a sickly looking ficus in the corner before searching out her roommate. She was in no hurry to have an argument about scuffed Louboutins.

"I need to use your phone. Mine got stolen and I need to cancel my credit card."

Gwen looked up from the papers spread out in front of her on the coffee table, clicking a pen in one hand as she took in Mindy's disheveled appearance. The clicking stopped, her perfectly painted mouth dropping open. "Oh my god, what happened? Were you mugged?"

"Yes... No... Maybe? Is it a mugging if some prick with a soy latte and a gluten free muffin snatches your bag off a table while you're telepathically flirting with a cute barista?"

"Here." Processing Mindy's explanation, Gwen visibly relaxed, tossing the phone to Mindy. The blonde's shoulders dropped back as she cast her friend an I-told-you-so look. "Never set anything down. How many times have I told you?"

Mindy collapsed into the only other piece of furniture in their living room, a mustard yellow love seat. It was old, the velveteen surface worn slick on the arms. "I get it, you're soooo metropolitan, and I'm a bumpkin from Concord."

Gwen shook her head, returning to her work. She'd started her paralegal job the day after they'd moved in together. Mindy secretly called it her husband hunting job, because Gwen constantly talked about snagging one of the eligible young lawyers at the practice, and moving to Greenwich to be a housewife. As wonderfully luxe as that life sounded, Mindy needed it to  _not_ happen any time soon.

She loved Gwen, had spent amazing summers with her in the Hamptons, went to her parents vineyard and drank more wine than she'd ever had in her life, but their friendship seemed tenuous at the moment. Mindy felt like Gwen was about to jump ship at any opportunity, and it made her nervous.

The apartment, tiny as it was, cost way more than Mindy could afford on her own ( _Friends_  was bullshit, she strongly suspected Monica and Rachel were drug dealers, there was NO way a waitress and a part time caterer could have afforded that place, rent controlled or not). The monthly stipend she got from her mother barely covered the rent and food. She depended on Gwen, because med school just didn't allow her any time for a job.

She called the credit card company and cancelled her one and only card, then the cell phone company to see about her getting her phone replaced. Thank god her mother had insisted on loss insurance, at least there was that.

"Do you have spare keys?"

Gwen nodded, pointing to the hook on the wall over Mindy's head. "I'll make copies of mine later, just take those."

Mindy was quiet, drawing one fingernail along the edge of the seat cushion, the corners of her mouth pulling down. She could feel the disappointment seeping into her again, and was about to go to her room to have a good cry when Gwen interrupted her melancholic thoughts.

"Hey, stop it. There are days like this. You still love New York. This is still your dream."

Mindy grunted, not trusting herself to answer.

Gwen closed the file she was working on and got up, quickly spanning the gap between them. She looked directly at Mindy and firmly said, "We've only been here a couple weeks. Your classes start Monday. You'll feel differently then, when everything starts to click into place."

Mindy perked up, eyes suddenly wide with excitement. She reach forward and grabbed Gwen by the shoulders. "That's right, classes start Monday. Let's go out tonight!"

Gwen frowned. "I have a work thing tonight. Mr. Peterson's daughter's twenty first birthday party. He's throwing this huge extravaganza on the roof of some swanky place on the upper east side. Half of New York is invited. I have to man the guest list."

Mindy's eyes were like saucers now. "Oh my god, that's perfect. Take me with you."

Gwen looked at her closely, underneath the current excitement there was a faint hint of disappointment, as if Mindy already knew she was going to say no. It made Gwen feel guilty for neglecting their friendship. Smiling brightly, she said, "Fine, but no stuffing appetizers in your clutch, and keep your hands off the waitstaff."

"The waitstaff?"

"Peterson's daughter insisted on hiring male models to walk around with their shirts off, delivering guests flutes of champagne. Do not assault the models, Mindy."

"You have my word Gwendolyn."

MIndy's word was worth next to nothing in this particular case, but Gwen merely smiled and pulled Mindy up off the loveseat. "Put on something flashy, because we're gonna have one last hurrah before you have to really put your nose to the grind."

After that Gwen was a whirlwind, digging through their shared closet with an energy that was contagious. Soon the pair was plotting out their strategies for free drinks, giggling as they emptied the only bottle of wine in their apartment.

"Where are my black pumps? They were right here this morning?"

Mindy spun around guiltily. "What are you talking about? I swear I did not wear them to get coffee earlier."

"Mindy!"

"Take pity on me, Gwen. I'm a poor little Concordite that was just mugged in the big scary city." She pooched out her bottom lip, blinking slowly.

"Oh I do pity you, because I'm getting first dibs on any and all firemen, doctors, or scandalous politicians." She slipped on a pair of slingbacks. "You'll be stuck making conversation with all the riff raff party crashers."

"That's fine with me, as long as there's free booze, loud music, and more than a few warm bodies."

**A/N: one of the people who reads these chapters before I post them said to me "you're starting a whole new story!" but I promise, once I realized this was going to be a mutli-chapter I'd always intended for there to be a time jump after the "be cool" breakup scene. All comments and feedback are devoured with gusto! (Fun fact: I took a film class in college and when we watched An Andalusian Dog one of the guys in the front row fainted when the eyeball slice occured :P)**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: sorry for the HUGE gap between updates. I hope this long awaited chapter does not disappoint. Feel free to let me know what you think. Comments are always appreciated for the gems that they are. :D**

Do not speak to anyone. Those were the first instructions Danny had been given when he'd arrived. The tiny pair of shorts he'd pulled on had been the only article of clothing waiting for him in the closet size dressing room aside from a very chippendales reminiscent bow tie and enough body glitter to satisfy the arts and crafts urges of teen girls everywhere. Of all the events he'd done for the "modeling" company this one was turning out to be the worst. He'd never felt more objectified in his life.

At least when he performed a strip tease for a group of giggling women, he could put on a show, send flirtatious smiles their way, smoldering glances as he rolled his hips. At least he was still a human being even if he was playing a part. This was different. He had to stand silently, hands on his hips like a statue while people milled around him. He was even wearing a silk mask like zorro, further depriving him of his individuality.

Occasionally a tipsy party goer would swing by his position, testing him like tourists test the guards at Buckingham Palace. Their favorite part of his body seemed to be his belly button, circling it then dragging their manicured fingernails down to the edge of his shorts. Other, bolder, or possibly more inebriated, explorers would trace the vee leading down to the edge of his shorts, lecherous smiles aimed up at him as their fingers drifted south.

They all walked away happy, covered to some degree in glitter. Danny treated each such invasion of his personal space as a marker of how close he was to being able to leave. The music pumping through the speakers was awful, some new age bullshit mixed and twisted into further oblivion by the DJ bouncing excitedly from a raised stage.

By his guess, the party was half over, champagne still flowing like water from fountains in each corner of the rooftop. It was a birthday party, for some spoiled little brat who didn't even care about ninety percent of the revelers heedlessly twirling around on the dance floor. If he was lucky, he'd be able to sneak away early.

He was fantasizing about showering off the mess of glitter on his body and climbing into his comfortable bed when he heard it, a gale of familiar laughter that he'd thought he'd never hear again. His eyes were the only thing to give him away, darting back and forth across the crowd until he found her, arms wrapped around some blond asshole in a power suit.

The lights strung across the rooftop resulted in a warm glow cast over the entire party, contrasting with the neon lasers shooting from the DJ's perch. All of the lights reflected off of the faint sheen of sweat on Mindy's exposed skin. Her hair flew out around her as she spun away from her blond companion's arms.

His eyes involuntarily followed her off the dance floor, watching as she sidled up to one of the strategically placed bars. Fruity cocktail in hand she leaned against a barstool, resting as she surveyed the scene before her. For one brief heart stopping moment her eyes lit on him, head cocking to the side as if she were trying to figure something out. It only lasted for a second, air rushing out of Danny's chest in relief when she looked away and returned to her dance partner.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when someone touched his arm. A woman with heavy lidded eyes and mascara running with sweat looked up at him, questioning his strange reaction. The statues were not supposed to jump in surprise. He looked down at her apologetically, resuming his confident pose.

In spite of himself, he zeroed in on Mindy again. She was back at the bar again, struggling to push through the crowd, only this time she had a rather frightened look on her face, eyes wide, lips pressed together tightly as though she were going to cry. Shit. Danny knew this was going to be a long night even before his bare feet slipped off his podium, legs propelling him across the space.

* * *

Mindy took back every disparaging remark she'd ever uttered about New York City. She was on cloud nine, or rather the sparkling rooftop of cloud nine. Josh's hands were all over her, like he had sexual attention deficit disorder. One second his fingers would be squeezing the life out of her ass, and in the blink of an eye they'd be threaded through her hair, marveling at the silken strands as the two of them fluttered back and forth between the bar and the dance floor. He was exactly what she'd been hoping to find when she'd walked into the jumping party, someone who obviously worshipped her.

Initially, he'd sidled up next to her at the bar full of overly confident machismo, interrupting her argument with the bartender over the absence of her "over twenty-one" wristband. Getting in between the heated exchange, he'd slipped a hundred across the marble top and smiled devilishly at her when her strawberry daiquiri materialized immediately. It hadn't taken more than a minute of stilted conversation yelled over the loudspeaker for them to end up on the dance floor. There was something enticing about the way his words blew out hotly against the column of her throat when he leaned in so she could hear.

His eyes were icy blue, blond hair spikey where he'd run his hands through it, just the faintest sheen of sweat making him light up like a glow stick in the strobing lights coming from the DJ booth. She wanted to devour him, but felt slightly self conscious about the dozen or so shrimp she'd swiped from a passing tray of appetizers. Leaning forward she yelled over the music. "Do you have a mint?"

The music was loud, and Josh seemed to be distracted anyway, eyes darting erratically around the party. It didn't surprise Mindy when he didn't comprehend her question, a quizzical expression twisting his features. "Huh?"

This time she mimed her request, pinching her index finger and thumb together and touching them to the tip of her tongue. Understanding finally dawning on him, Josh slipped a hand inside his breast pocket, withdrawing a little metal tin, shaking out one for himself before offering one to her. Yelling over the music, he asked, "You sure?"

Her only answer was to snatch the mint from his hand and pop it into her mouth, intent on chewing up the altoid for quicker effect. The moment it crushed between her teeth she realized her mistake. An awful bitterness spread across her tongue, ammonia-like in its intensity. Her first instinct was to snatch a fruity cocktail off the tray of a passing waiter.

It was a reflex really, chugging the strawberry daiquiri down before common sense once again asserted itself. She most certainly shouldn't have swallowed the mystery tablet. "What the hell  _was_  that?"

Horror washed over Mindy. How could she have been so stupid? He was a stranger at an even weirder party. She could only attribute her rash behavior to a few too many drinks and an almost unbearable desire to forget the anxieties that had been plaguing her all day. But now all she could think about was Gwen's stricken face as she looked over the dismembered body of one Mindy Lahiri, sobbing uncontrollably as she confirmed the identity for the medical examiner. She'd always known she'd go this way, the tragic victim of a charming and beautiful serial killer. "TELL ME WHAT IT WAS!"

She lunged forward, latching on to the lapels of his expensive suit. He staggered back, confusion written all over his face. "Just a little Molly, babe, relax."

"Molly? Who the hell is Molly? Your last victim?"

Josh shrugged her off, rolling his eyes as he backed away. "It's just ecstasy. You'll be fine, just drink some water and find someone to rub up on." The last comment was accompanied by a suggestive wink, implying that he'd still be up for it if she wasn't a lunatic.

Mindy didn't respond, panic zipping through her limbs. She started breathing rather quickly, eyes wide open. She could feel her heart thumping away in her chest, a sheen of sweat spreading across her forehead. Logically she knew the symptoms of a panic attack, but she was powerless to do anything about it. There was every chance in the world that she would faint right here on the dance floor, and the gyrating partygoers would merely trample her to death in their revelry.

She ran back to the bar, world closing in on her as she pushed through the crowd. She needed something... anything to calm her down. A glass of water? A cheese stick? Did they even have any food here not perched on the fingertips of amazonian waitresses?

The bar was too crowded, and she couldn't catch the bartender's attention. She tried yelling, but her voice only came out in a strangled croak, panic setting nausea swirling in her stomach. Just as stress barfs were about to make an unwelcome appearance, she felt a warm touch at her elbow, tugging her away from the hot press of bodies. She followed without protest, watching the back of her glittery savior as though he were an angel. She began to wonder if she actually had passed out.

It only took a moment to get her away from the thumping music and strobing lights, and soon the only thing to capture her attention was the winking pieces of glitter embedded in every line of her angel's musculature. They were like a million points of light, each one sending out a bright beam until he was shrouded in a glowing halo. "Where are your wings?"

He plopped her down on a cloud before responding to her breathy question in an irritated voice. "What?"

She couldn't quite tell if he was angry or not. The question seemed aggravated, but also worried. The dichotomy was a little too difficult for her to decipher in her present condition. Plus, she couldn't see his eyes, not really. A band of black silk was tied at the back of his head, two eyeholes cut out. The color of the mask was the deepest black she'd ever seen, fingers reaching forward to probe the material. Her skin itched to feel it.

A disappointed little whine escaped when she realized her arms were not long enough to reach him, standing up, and she struggled to rise from the fluffy cloud beneath her, but his hands lit on her shoulders almost immediately, pressing her gently back down into the softness. "What is  _wrong_ with you?"

Rather than answer him, she looked gazed at the fingers gripping her shoulders. His hands were hot, not unpleasantly so, but it was surprising enough for her to reach for them, tracing the long digits with her own fingertips.

"Mindy, answer me."

At the sound of her name, she snapped back to the present, focusing on the question he'd asked her. The horror of reality came crashing down unexpectedly and she crumpled into tears, sobbing out, "Moooooooolly."

"Who?"

She was hiccupping now, scalding tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping down into her cleavage. She could feel every centimeter of the skin that the salty liquid cascaded across, it tickled like little butterfly wings against her skin. "That guy in a shark suit gave me ecstasy."

He let go of her immediately, cursing softly under his breath before he slipped out the door. She sat stunned, trying to access a part of her brain that seemed to keep misfiring. There was something familiar about her angel, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. He was back before she could get her faculties together, shoving a bottle of cold water into her hands and brushing away the damp hair from her cheeks.

"You're gonna be fine. Just drink that. I'll be right back." He turned away again, pulling all the pleasant sensations around her with him. The room felt cold and strangely empty as he passed through the door. She felt her lips begin to tremble again, but before tears could spill out he popped his head back in one last. "Do not move, Mindy. I'm serious."

Her chin went up and down like a bobble head with a loose spring. She was still nodding long after he left, in time to the muffled thumps of electronica seeping through the thin walls. The nodding only stopped when a realization smacked her rudely. Those kissable lips, that slightly gruff voice, Staten Island accent riding just along the edges, that svelte body. All of it was familiar for a reason.

Her fingertips darted to her own lips, tracing the lines there trying to remember the way it felt to be kissed by the man who'd just been in the room, his stubble tickling along her jar, long pony-like eyelashes fluttering against her skin as he moved over her. She whispered his name, feeling the letters tumble out into the room. "Danny."

The MDMA moving through her system made her hot, so damn hot. She felt like Danny had plopped her down in the middle of an oven and stepped outside to crank up the heat. Her dress was beginning to stick to her, itching around the hems. How had she not noticed how uncomfortable it was before. She could feel it touching every square inch of skin, and a small part of her brain was telling her, however irrational, that the little red dress was the source of all of her problems.

Wiggling clumsily, she got up out off of the little gray love seat, stopping for a second to marvel at the fact that only moments before she had confused it for an actual cloud. Her slippery fingers found the zipper almost immediately, but it was such an awkward angle that she couldn't get it down, yanking angrily at it until an unpleasant rending noise made her gasp.

The dress split, stitches blowing willy nilly once the initial thread was broken. Mindy was caught between a feeling of utter horror and blessed relief as comparatively cool air blasted against her skin. She barely even noticed when as her bra flew into the corner, hands moving of their own volition as she tried to escape the underwired confines.

The sensation was strange. She knew that disrobing somewhere like this was not a good idea, and it wasn't like she felt inebriated, but there was just a part of her that didn't care about what was seemly and what wasn't. It seemed perfectly ok to be lazily spinning naked in this tiny little room while she waited for someone she occasionally had dreams about.

Danny. Yes she dreamed about him, warm fuzzy slumberland fantasies that disappeared with the light of day. Often she forgot about the scenes altogether, only a vague feeling of disatisfaction following her around for a couple hours after she had her morning waffles. He'd always been the one who'd gotten away… or rather, the one who'd run away.

Those dreams dropped down on her like an avalanche, hotly whispered words, a wet and persistent mouth leaving hot marks all over her body. Skin around her nipples tightened involuntarily at the thought, little goosebumps cascading across her chest. Shit, this was probably not a good idea, but whatever primal part of her being that had just been awakened was salivating at the opportunity to cling to his glittery and half naked body.

Glittery? She stopped her slow circles, arms dropping to her sides. What the hell was Danny doing here? Dressed like an extra from Magic Mike and looking looking like a fairy threw up all over him? It didn't make any sense. Mr. No-Nonsense-Med-Student should have been a doctor by now, not a… well what the hell was he anyway?

Mindy picked up the cool water bottle in thought, dragging it across her skin. The condensation on the plastic beaded and dropped down between her breasts, leaving a pleasantly cool trail in the valley. She sipped the water thoughtfully, running a million scenarios through her mind. She settled on two possibilities. One: Danny owed money to the mob for… something... and he was working his debt by stripping?... or Two: He'd realized his true passion was pretending to be a statue at swanky uptown parties doubling as a paramedic for overzealous partiers. Two perfectly logical assumptions, she told herself.

She was in the process of trying to figure out exactly why Danny owed the mob money when the door behind her swung open again. So absorbed in thought was she, that it didn't even occur to her how strange it might seem to be standing unabashedly in her birthday suit. She merely screwed the lid back on the water bottle and spun around to confront him. "Which is it Danny? The horse races? Did you bet your life's savings on a baseball match?"

* * *

Danny was frozen on the spot. She was stark naked, pointing an accusing finger at him, sweat glistening on her dark skin in an alluring shimmer. He almost wanted to pinch himself to make sure he was awake. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had some strange dreams, and it wouldn't be the first time she was in them, although he could say certainly it was the first time that she'd been naked in any of those scenarios. He'd always woken up feeling guilty and sad, often times more than a little irritated with himself.

This was certainly not something he could ever dream up. Mindy just continued to stare at him, eyes wide and full of questions, concern clearly tinging her voice. His brain finally kicked into gear and he stepped into the room, slamming the door behind him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Is the godfather making you strip at his daughter's birthday party to repay your debt?"

Danny could  _feel_  himself turning crimson, and not just the tops of his ears like usual, but all over. Up to this point he'd been able to hide his nocturnal job from his fellow med students and his family, but somehow Mindy seeing him stoop to this level was far worse than any of those other people. As usual, his reaction to embarrassment was gruff irritation. "It's a job. Sit down."

He found a thin blue robe hanging on one of the hooks, something one of the other models had left before taking up a position at the side of the dance floor. Draping it across her shoulders, he tied a rough knot at the waist. It was his intention to sit her down and keep her company until she was calm enough to tell him who she came with. With any luck their reunion wouldn't go past tonight.

But when he tried to push her back down onto the loveseat, she didn't cooperate, threading her arms around his neck and nuzzling her nose into the hollow just underneath his ear. He gave in for a millisecond, breathing deeply and marveling at the fact that she still smelled faintly of flowers and spice, just like before. Ruefully, he untangled their limbs, determined to get her down. "Mindy, please."

Surprisingly, his request worked, and she slumped down into the seat with only the faintest of whines. "What is happening to me?"

He sighed in relief. Much better prepared to deal with easing her bad trip, he sat down beside her, one hand rubbing small circles on her back. "I'm guessing you're just a little overwhelmed right now, you're heart's fluttering and you feel unreasonably hot."

She nodded and he continued. "Just relax. I'll dim the lights and you can ride this out in relative peace." He got up and flicked the overhead light off, leaving only the row of low wattage bulbs over a small vanity on. They cast a mellow glow over the room, and Mindy began to feel her erratic breathing even out.

"That's it. Drink some water but don't over-hydrate."

She wasn't stupid, the drug Josh had given her was still playing havoc with her senses, but having Danny so reassuringly close helped. What didn't help were the shivers that chased down her spine each time his palm passed over the small of her back, each pore on her skin sparking even though the thin robe. Or the fact that she could feel him in every cell of her body, memories suddenly becoming tangible things. God knows what the ecstasy was cut with. It could have been anything, but what the hell could make her feel this way, feel this sudden and irresistible yearning?

She leaned into him, eyes drifting shut as her fingers drifted across his chest. She laughed, the sound of it against his skin making him shiver. "What's so funny?"

"You are so smooth… like a baby's bottom. It's like I'm Mrs. Robinson and you're my young lover." She dropped a small kiss on his throat, just above his skittering pulse. "To be honest, I'm more into hair, but whatever floats your client's boats I suppose."

Danny stiffened against her. "Okay, okay.. that's enough. Tell me who you were with so I can get you out of here."

The pleasurable sensations floated away from her, dissipating in the air only to be replaced by a deep feeling of melancholy. This dramatic emotional shift bowled her over a little, and she felt her bottom lip quivering. She told herself over and over again it was just the drug, but a small part of her was still devastated to be rejected by him yet again.

"Gwen, but she can't leave… she's working."

Danny gritted his teeth in frustration, the muscles in his jaws bunching painfully. The clock on the wall told him his shift was almost over anyway. "Fine. I'll take you home. Let's go find Gwen and get the hell out of here."


	17. Chapter 17

**A/n: Sorry for the loooong wait between updates. This chapter is comparatively short, but I'm still working on getting to the end. Thanks to anyone who has stuck with it for so long. Comments and reviews mean the world to me, no lie.**

Mindy groaned. Her mouth tasted like a litter box, dry and pungent. The sun streaming in through her bedroom window was an affront to her senses, sharp pains darting through her eyeballs and into her poor abused brain.

She sat up, shielding her eyes from the offending beams while she scrabbled around on the nightstand. Her sunglasses settled on the bridge of her nose and she flopped back down onto the mattress wincing at the way she ached.

Her mind was foggy, but she hadn't been blessed with a full on blackout. She could still remember the absolutely mortifying way she's behaved the night before. The cab ride home was enough to send the blood rushing to her cheeks and set nausea swirling in her stomach.

What she was missing from the horrible memory, were the exact things she had said. The memory of her fingers tracing the lines of Danny's abdomen was seared into her memory in technicolor, but the words she'd spoken were wrapped in cotton, just noises that she couldn't make sense of.

She got up, shuffling into the kitchen like an extra in a zombie flick, in search of aspirin and orange juice. Gwen was standing at the stove, humming happily while she scrambled eggs. Mindy felt an undeserved wave of loathing spill out of her as she looked at her roommate.

Gwen was dressed demurely, silk blouse wrinkle free and clinging to her perfect form. Her hair was coiffed in a professional updo, the blonde strands anchored in place by a kind of magic Mindy just didn't have access to. The song she hummed was upbeat and poppy. It made Mindy want to bash her brains in.

Mindy took a seat at the island, dropping her head down in her hands. "Oh my god. At least hum something appropriate for the occasion... Like Chopin's Funeral March."

Gwen rolled her eyes, depositing a pile of golden and fluffy eggs on a plate with crispy bacon and buttered toast. "No one died, Mindy."

She sat the plate down in front of Mindy. In spite of her slight nausea, the smell of bacon and eggs made Mindy's mouth water, all the misplaced hatred for her perfect roommate wafting away like smoke on the wind. Gwen made a mean scrambled egg. Mindy forked some of the fluffy little egg pillows, shoveling them into her mouth without a word of thanks.

"As a matter of fact..." Gwen reached forward, leaning close to swipe something off of Mindy's cheek. "Did you get lucky last night? If I recall this glitter was on someone else the last time I saw you." She brushed her fingertips together, letting the sparkling debris fall to the floor.

Mindy pointed at Gwen with a piece of bacon. "I can't believe you let me leave the party with him. He could have murdered me."

Gwen snorted. "Please, Mindy. He's the one you're always talking about. The one that got away."

"What? You don't even know his name."

Gwen pulled out her phone, scrolling. "Daniel Castellano. Previously of Staten Island, now of Brooklyn, 5'7", brown hair, brown eyes, went to undergrad with you, totally likes you."

Mindy stared at her, mouth open. The fork clattered to the plate. "How do you know all this?"

"I interrogated him before he left with you. I couldn't leave the party, but you clearly needed to get the hell out of dodge..." She swiped across her phone, handing it over to Mindy. "Look, I even took a picture of him, and told him if he hurt one hair on your pretty little head, he'd be locked up so fast his head would spin, and I'd put him on a blacklist so he'd get stuck with a public defender.."

"How sweet of you." Mindy looked down at the phone, a little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. He looked so surprised, eyes wide, sweat sparkling on his skin. Well, sweat and glitter. His mouth was turned down in an irritated frown, eyebrows furrowed. Poor Danny, he hadn't asked to be her chaperone for the evening.

The last part of Gwen's description finally penetrated her thoughts. "What do you mean 'totally likes me'?"

Gwen shrugged, snatching back her phone. "I don't know, there was just something about the way he looked at you in between huge sighs of irritation."

There was one particular part of the previous evening she couldn't forget if she she tried. Mindy's shoulders slumped, the burgeoning little smile melting back into a sad frown. "Nothing happened last night. He's married."

* * *

Danny tugged Mindy toward the cab. She didn't exactly fight him, but her attention was focused on anything and everything other than getting home. The chemicals in her system kicking into full effect, a delayed reaction Danny hadn't expected.

She kept touching things. Oohing and awing over the fabric of surprised party goers' dresses and suit jackets. Danny shot one particularly aggressively groped young woman a sympathetic glance, shaking his head in apology.

He ushered her into the waiting car, sliding her across the vinyl seat when she made no move to get out of his way. The door slammed. He gave the cabbie Gwen's address, telling him to hurry, a crisp benjamin tucked between his fingers to grease the wheels.

She was sprawled out beside him, sliding back across the slick seat when the cabbie took an unexpected turn. One hand on his lap, the other clutching at his shoulder, she smiled up at him, every bit of the enthusiasm for the night finally returning to her. Danny reached up to push her aside, but his traitorous fingers merely swept the hair away from her face.

She leaned into his touch, caressing his knuckles with the smooth skin of her cheek. Very nearly purring against him, she crawled into his lap. "I've always wondered."

"Wondered what?" His voice cracked. She was too warm against him, too pliant.

"If we would ever run into each other again… ever get the timing right." She bent forward, nuzzling his collar, her lips faintly brushing against his clavicle..

He cleared his throat. "Uh… listen. We can't-"

She cut him off, pressing her index finger against his lips, just like on the cover of her favorite romance novel. His lips were pillowy against her fingertips and suddenly she was distracted, staring at his bottom lip, pressing down a little harder.

The cabbie took another sharp turn and threw them both over in the seat, Mindy pressed firmly against Danny's chest. He could feel where the robe had fallen open, the smooth skin of her stomach slippng against his hand trapped between them. The backseat was quickly becoming a torture chamber. Danny pushed himself up, resettling Mindy in the seat beside him. He averted his eyes as she rearranged the robe.

"Mindy listen-"

"I think about you."

He softened, an ache deep in his chest making it hard to breathe. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and draw her to him, lay her head on his chest and just hold her. But he had to tell her the truth.

"You do?."

The question tumbled out without warning, taking Danny by surprise. He didn't have an excuse for this awful behavior. He wasn't the one who'd been chugging strawberry daiquiris and taking illegal substances. He was stone cold sober, and letting her continue under this incorrect assumption was a dick move.

Mindy lunged across the small space, arms flying around his neck as she crushed her lips to his. Danny thought he was dying, all of the air going out of his lungs. Surely that was why he couldn't push her away, couldn't free himself from her passionate kiss. She drew back to catch her breath, eyes sparkling with happiness in the light of passing streetlamps.

His heart thundered in his hears, sweat gathering on his brow. "I'm married."

Mindy's eyes widened, mouth dropping open in surprise. "What?"

Danny reached into his pocket, groaning when he realized he didn't have his wedding ring. He held his hand up between them, like some kind of talisman against infidelity, pointing at his ring finger. "I don't have the ring, because of work, but look. There's a tan line." He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing up an down as he waited for his confession to penetrate whatever fog she was in.

He expected the rain of fists, and she didn't disappoint, pummelling him like the speed bag at his gym. What he didn't expect were the hot tears streaming down her face as she called him a bastard. It tore at him, but he let her have her moment, she was right after all.

Finally, she ran out of steam, flopping back against the seat before dropping her head into her hands, mumbling against her palms. "What does it say about me that knowing that doesn't make me want this any less?" She peeked at him between two fingers, waiting for his response.

He fought the urge to smile, knowing it would just piss her off. He cleared his throat. "I think it would just say that you're clearly dosed with MDMA and you're not in your right mind."

"Right. Of course." Her eyes told him quite a different story, still shining with unshed tears.

The cab came to a stop, and Mindy turned to fumble with the handle. She couldn't find it in the dark, swearing under her breath as she frantically traced along the edge of the door. "Damn it!"

Danny reached across and wordlessly released her, the catch popping when he yanked the handle. She spilled out of the car, recoiling at the feeling of damp pavement on her bare feet. "Ew! This is disgusting."

Danny came up behind her, taking her by the elbow to lead her up the steps. "There's only a fifty percent chance that it's urine. What happened to your shoes?"

She sighed, resigning herself to contracting hoof and mouth disease. "Oh, my shoes are safe and sound tucked in my closet. Gwen's shoes on the other hand... " She shrugged. "She'll get over it."

They halted at the door, the last pit stop on this bizarro world date. She wouldn't get a kiss at the door, and it made her irrationally angry. "Keys?"

He reached in his pocket, just like when he'd dug for the ring. Mindy tapped her foot, snatching the lanyard out of his hand when he finally withdrew it. He asked, "You got it from here?"

For the first time since he'd announced his marital status, she found the courage to look at him head on. It wasn't a good idea. He looked sad, his whole face sort of drawn, shoulders pitched forward. She softened. "Thanks for the ride, Danny. Sorry for the mauling."

"Don't worry about it…" He trailed off, hands jammed in his pockets like a nervous teenager. "New York City is a big place. We probably won't even see each other again… No need to feel awkward."

She nodded, slipping her key in the door. Danny watched her through the panes of wavy glass, almost hoping she would look back down on him. It didn't happen.

He turned away, slipping one hand in his pocket to find the crumpled pack of cigarettes he kept for occasions just like this. Putting the filter to his lip, he stopped for a second, looking back up. He wondered which floor she lived on, which window was hers. One of the darkened panes lit up, glowing golden with soft light. The hand with the cigarette dropped, and he said softly, "I think about you too."

* * *

Mindy scraped her plate clean, running hot water over it before leaving in the sink for Gwen to wash. She didn't have it in her, and thought her poor manicure really couldn't take another round of dish soap.

The apartment was quiet. Gwen had disappeared to go meet some uptown friends for brunch. Mindy wasn't invited. It wasn't an intentional brush off, she didn't think. She just didn't know those people, and she looked like a half-dead cave troll with her hair in knots and bags under her eyes. Today was not a day meant for socializing, at least not with trust fund babies who had standing salon appointments.

She curled up in a ball on the couch, telling herself to get up and go shower, but all she did was pick up the remote and flip through channels. Clicking mindlessly past infomercials for ab-rollers and juicers. She landed on a telenovela. The dramatic background music was soothing to her frayed nerves, and the man-candy was impressive enough to hold her attention.. until a man in a black mask and cape swooped in to save the day. Nope.

She reached for the remote to change the channel, but the sound of Gwen's phone chiming in the kitchen caught her attention. Little Miss Perfect must have forgotten it. Mindy got up, walking across the cold tile. It stopped ringing before she got to it, the sound briefly echoing off the walls.

She grabbed the slim device, swiping across the screen to unlock it. Gwen's password had been the same since she'd known her: Colin Firth's birthday. She smiled as she tapped the four digits. She was being nosy, yes. It was girlfriend code. Always look through your friend's phone at every opportunity to make sure she's not making any horrible life decisions named Kevin or Brad. That's why Mindy was scrolling through her photos. She was most definitely  _not_ looking for that picture of Danny. It was merely coincidence that found her finger hovering, paused over the image of him.

Quickly she sent the picture to herself, deleting the evidence of the message as she went along. She didn't look deeply into why she wanted to keep it, just that it seemed like a good idea. Carefully, she placed the phone back on the counter, wiping away the traces of her finger smudges with the edge of her robe. She smiled to herself. Maybe she would change her specialty to forensics and go be a expert consult on CSI.

Seconds later her phone pinged, and she ignored it, walking past the living room to the bathroom. It would probably take her the rest of the weekend to look presentable for classes Monday, and she was determined to put this entire fiasco behind her. It was time to buckle down, and if she happened to meet a nice med student, with "future plastic surgeon" written all over his perfectly symmetrical face, then so be it. Everything she'd ever wanted was still in front of her. She practiced her new mantra as the robe fell to the floor, hot water steaming up the tiny bathroom. Forget the past.


	18. Chapter 18

The first day of class was like a holiday for Mindy. In all the years she'd been toting heavy book bags to stuffy lecture halls there was never anything quite like the feel of writing with a brand new pen on the first piece of paper in her spiral notebook. It evoked a nostalgia in her, bringing back memories of pristine white keds and her very own Lisa Frank pencil set. Even in med school she couldn't forgo the ritual of writing her name in the top right corner of the bright pink notebook. The days of Lisa Frank were gone, but the fresh hope that the first day of class brought was still something comforting and familiar.

And in this particular case, it was something utterly necessary. The embarrassment of accidentally drugging herself and then trying to basically assault an ex was still weighing pretty heavily on her. The hot flush of shame every time she thought about it was only tempered by the fact that today represented a new beginning. Sure, she was sitting in one of the hardest classes she'd ever had to take, but it was something she was looking forward to. She'd been studying her anatomy books all summer. This was going to be a relative cakewalk, she was sure of it.

Ten minutes into the class and she wasn't so sure about the whole cakewalk scenario. There were slides going up on the projector with words on them she only vaguely recognized, the professor droning on in the bottom of the lecture pit. She could feel a fine sheen of sweat collecting on her upper lip as she furiously jotted down notes. If anything, she kind of thought this class would just be a place where some hot guy would ask her to "study anatomy later." Instead, by the time she walked out into the hall, her head was swimming with medical terms, nausea threatening.

She walked in a daze to her next class, head down as she pondered what it would be like to drop out and become a nun. Surely they got off for the important holidays, and they never had to shave their legs. There were definite advantages.

She was deep into contemplating the various career paths a woman with pre-med baccalaureate could get and still maintain her dignity, when she rounded a corner and ran smack into someone, books and paper flying out around them like tornado of school supplies. Scrambling to pick up her things, she began to apologize, words tumbling out of her mouth. "Oh god, I'm sorry, I was just lost in my head. Are nuns allowed to listen to Taylor Swift, because if not, that's -"

Their hands brushed, both reaching for the same text book. It snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. This was it, wasn't it? Her meet-cute of epic proportions, her rom com moment of the decade. She was babbling like an idiot about alternate career paths, and she had barely looked up at the owner of the jean clad thighs in front of her. She was losing her touch, for sure.

Slapping a broad smile across her face, she looked up, ready to dazzle her future life partner. The expression of undiluted charm immediately fled from her face, mouth dropping open in an unintelligent little oh.

"Mindy?"

She shook her head, sweeping up the mess in front of her and shoving it down into her book bag. "No, nope, uh uh, no Mindy here, just some other Indian chick. God, do you think we all look alike or something? Racist."

She spun on her heel, embarrassment chasing her along the corridor.

"Mindy!"

He was calling out behind her, a quick patter of hard souls on tile getting closer as she scurried away. Damn these heels, when would she learn? They made escaping awkward situations impossible. She felt his hand on her elbow, and swung around to face him. "Danny?" His name was a question. She wanted to know what he was doing here? "Are you stalking me?"

"What? No! I'm just going to class." He gestured toward her book bag. "You grabbed my book back there."

Frowning, she slipped one hand into her bag, rummaging around through the mess. "Nope, just my books."

Satisfied, she moved to walk away again, but he stopped her, grabbing her elbow again and moving in a little too close. It was his hands that slipped down into her bag this time, in a strangely intimate invasion of personal space. After a second, he withdrew a hardback copy of her Biochemistry textbook.

"Mine." He grunted it out like a caveman laying claim to a piece of dinosaur steak.

Mindy's nostrils flared in indignation. "I don't think so mister, that's mine."

She reached forward to snatch the book from his hands, but he dodged her, flipping open the front cover to reveal his name. "Unless you've been writing my name on your books like a lovesick schoolgirl, this is my copy."

"What the hell?' It only took her a second to find her own book, safely ensconced between her pink notebook and ballpoint pens. She groaned. "Please don't tell me we're taking the same course… at the same time."

Danny glanced at the wall plaque beside the door they were blocking, the expression on his face just as irritated. "I won't tell you that, but it doesn't change the fact."

* * *

It was hard to concentrate with Danny boring holes with his eyes into the back of her head, or at least it was hard to concentrate while assuming that's what he was doing. He'd done the cool kid thing and taken a seat toward the back of the hall. She was convinced it was to be as far away from her as possible, since she knew for a fact he was a total nerd that liked to be in the very front row… just like her.

Luckily, chemistry of any kind was her forte, and not paying attention on the first day wasn't likely to change that. She just had to get her head in the game, and stop thinking about the mortification of the last time she'd interacted with Danny. They didn't have to talk to each other just because they were in the same class. They could totally ignore one another. After all, it's not like he would want her blabbing about the stripping thing. He'd probably keep his mouth shut about her tripping on E at a party and trying desperately to get in his pants… probably.

That thought helped, and it was easier to push the whole dilemma to the back of her head. By the end of the two hours she had a notebook full of hastily scribbled notes, and a dozen or so pages in her textbook covered in highlighter ink. All in all, a fairly productive class, although she'd probably bring her laptop next time. She'd get carpel tunnel at the rate she was going with her little notebook. She even stayed seated shuffling through her things, just to avoid running into Danny outside.

When she finally exited the lecture hall he was nowhere to be seen. Mission accomplished. She wasn't even a tiny bit disappointed when he wasn't waiting for her. Not even a little, nope.

Okay, maybe a little. She did wonder what Danny was doing in a year one class. It didn't make any sense to her, none of it did really. The stripping, the marriage… what the hell had happened after he'd left her? She almost felt bad for how much his life seemed to have gone off the rails. Was it Christina's fault? She kind of hoped it was, although the only scenario in which all of this really fit together was Danny accidentally getting the ice-queen pregnant sometime after graduation. That thought made her sad, although she wouldn't delve too deeply into why.

That night she stayed up extra late studying anatomy, the heavy book open on the kitchen table, flash cards fanned out in all directions. One class was not going to shatter her confidence. She flipped through the pages, writing down the words over and over again. Some people said rote memorization was not a good way to learn material, but Mindy had always found it helpful. She liked being able to instantly access words and images when she needed them, the concepts always came later.

In the wee hours of the night, the excitement of new beginnings began to wear off, her eyes drooping heavily. She ended up resting her head on the less than cushiony book, drifting off almost immediately. The text swam behind her eyelids, following her down into the rabbit hole as she lost consciousness. She dreamed of the body parts, taking a permanent marker and labeling a cadaver draped across her kitchen table with cramped tiny writing. Except… her cadaver was warm, flesh still pink with life. It was ticklish too, laughing when she began to label muscles along his ribcage.

She jumped back, the marker in her hand suddenly no longer a writing utensil, but a long pink feather trembling against the man's skin. He sat up, cuffing her wrists with his own strong fingers to stop the tortuous tickling. He drew his thumb along the sensitive skin there, whispering "Pronator Quadratus" into her ear as though it were a declaration of love, hot gusts fluttering against her neck.

She started laughing hysterically. What the hell was Danny doing in her dreams? This wasn't fair. Now his lips were pressed against her collarbone, sucking gently at the skin there between little soft sighs. Declarations of "stemocleidomastoid muscle" made her knees week as he traveled up the column of her throat. This was the weirdest dream she'd ever had, these clinical words making her eyes roll back in her head as Danny's touch traveled all over her body.

Finally his lips captured hers, sucking hungrily until she kissed him back. Her hands found their favorite place, one resting gently on his chest while the other one cradled his head, fingers slipping through the silken strands of his hair. Pulling back with a gasp, he looked directly into her eyes for the first time, wild desperation on his face. "Don't tell my wife."

Mindy's eyes flew open with a startled gasp. She peeled her face off the shiny textbook page, grimacing as a strand

of saliva stuck to her chin. She dashed it away, rubbing her eyes a little too aggressively. That was a dream she'd not soon forget, the gentle ache of desire still pulsing between her legs. She groaned. She couldn't even get laid in her dreams. How pathetic. The next few months were going to be excruciating.

* * *

Danny ate dinner alone, take out containers scattered across the table as he poured over his text books. Getting back into the swing of things was harder than he'd imagined. His brain needed some kind of mental calisthenics to jump start it, and cold pad thai just wasn't cutting it. It was too bad he didn't have anyone to go over this with him, to quiz him on chemical formulas. Flash cards just weren't the same. Christina was off at some gallery opening, a friend with questionable taste that needed moral support… he'd stopped listening after the words 'performance art' had passed her lips.

He was sick of takeout, but Christina never cooked and he'd been too tired lately. Work and school pulled him in opposite directions, one taking up all his free daytime hours while the other ate up his nights. He was a candle burning at both ends. Eventually the wick would meet in the middle and Danny would have nothing left of himself but pale ash. He could see it coming, and still felt powerless to stop it.

He just needed… to not be alone in this, to know that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, that thing he was working so hard for. His mother was supportive, but she didn't really understand the stress he was under. She nodded in sympathy when he started to complain during Sunday dinner, but he could see that she didn't feel the full weight of his exhaustion. And Christina… he could literally see her eyes glaze over the moment he started to talk about anything related to med-school.

There was one person… It was absurd to even think of it. Their interactions lately were tinged with awkwardness and even a little dislike. But she was the only person he knew he could talk to. The only person who understood the stress he was under, because she was swimming it it too. He scooted away from the table, rising to collect the empty takeout containers. No, he couldn't go down that road again. He wasn't good for her anyway, and she probably wouldn't appreciate him taking up her free time with whiny little stories about falling asleep on the subway on the way to work because he was just so fucking tired. He was fine, he just needed to buckle down and start drinking stronger coffee. He was Danny Castellano, the kid who had raised his younger brother and worked two after school jobs while maintaining a perfect GPA. This should be easy.

Everything went in the trash. There was nothing to clean up but a single fork. Danny washed it quickly, tossing it in the dish rack to dry. He'd probably washed that same fork a dozen times this week. There was no reason to drop it back in the bamboo tray where it belonged, tucked next to the spoons and butter knives. Every time he heard the utensil clatter in the dish rack, a little bubble of anger floated up in him, a shiver zipping through him as it broke the surface. He shook it off. This shouldn't be a problem, he just needed to suck it up, be a man and push past the nervous breakdown that seemed to be looming on the horizon. He didn't need Mindy, and she didn't need him mucking up her life with his bullshit.


	19. Chapter 19

When Danny was a kid, his favorite place to sneak away to was the New York Public Library. It was quiet in a way that no place on Staten Island ever was. There he could drag out massive tomes about Roman history and scroll through microfilm looking at baseball scores from the sixties. It was a little slice of tranquility in the bustling city, and one place his mother never questioned him about.

If anything, the library at Columbia University was even more cavernous and ornate, books lining the shelves with spines flush against one another. And it was quiet, the hushed susurrus of shuffling papers the only thing echoing in the vaulted chambers. He should have felt right at home studying here, his books fanned out across a polished table. He didn't… he just felt overwhelmed.

His classes weren't going like he'd expected. He was overextended, taking on too many events at night. They paid too well to pass up, especially with the prospect of Richie going to college in a year or so. Danny couldn't afford to slack in any area. But it left him exhausted, and he made simple mistakes. He'd already missed a couple labs this quarter, and he'd already received a few concerned emails from one of the TA's.

That wasn't his biggest problem. It would be easy to buckle down and catch up with his anatomy classes and clinicals. What was proving harder and harder to get a handle on was the chemistry class he shared with Mindy. It was too fast paced for him to stop and go back, and the information they covered just built and built, until he was looking at things on the whiteboard that he didn't recognize at all. It made him want to pull his hair out. Instead, he carded his fingers through it for the thousandth time and reopened his biochemistry textbook.

The pencil twitched in his fingers as he scribbled practice equations on the blank paper, squinting as he tried to remember the various bonds and pairings. He would never admit it to another person, but it seemed like everything he'd learned in his undergrad classes was slipping away. The ease of recalling stored information was disappearing, and the harder he had to concentrate, the harder the pencil bore down.

It wasn't very surprising when the thing snapped in his fingers, and audible crack echoing in the quiet hall. He reached down in his bag to find another but came up empty handed, cursing softly as he checked his jacket pockets.

"Here."

He looked up. A prettily manicured hand held out a freshly sharpened pencil, little butterflies fluttering across its shiny surface. He just stared at the offering, willing it to disappear along with its owner.

She ignored his rude behavior, popping her gum rather loudly as she set down beside him. Her book bag landed on the table with a thump. "Chemistry got you down?"

Nosy, as always, she peered down at his notes, shaking her head. "Man, you're all mixed up. Those aren't supposed to be covalent bonds, and  _that_ … well I don't even know what that is, but it certainly isn't a molecule I've ever seen before." She reached over and began erasing what he'd just written with her butterfly covered pencil. "There… See, much better."

He did see, and the ease with which she had fixed his problem set his teeth on edge. "No one asked you, Mindy."

She snorted with laughter, once again ignoring the irritation in his voice. "Well, you should have."

He glared at her. "Can you pipe down? This is a library."

She did have the decency to look a little sheepish, scooting closer to him so she wouldn't have to speak so loudly. "I'm actually kind of glad you're struggling with chemistry."

"I'm not struggling."

She arched one eyebrow at him. "Your pencil begs to differ… but like I said, I'm glad. I've been trying to get the courage to ask you for help all week, and now I have something to barter with."

He sighed. "What do you want?"

"I need a study partner… and I don't really know anyone in my classes that well, and I don't really want to show any signs of weakness, you know? Med school is über competitive, et cetera…"

"Which class?"

"Gross Anatomy."

"No."

"Come on, Danny. I know you've taken it already, and it's easier to learn with someone else."

"How do you know I've taken it?"

"I asked around."

His eyes grew round, nostrils flaring as he blew out an angry breath. "What? You have no right."

"Relax, I'm not stalking you or anything. I just need a little help from someone who isn't an idiot, even if he's a bit of a jerk."

"You think I'm smart?"

She rolled her eyes, sighing dramatically. "Your ego is so fragile." He still waited on her to answer his question, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It made her stomach flutter. She could remember kissing the corner of that mouth, sometimes when he was doing that very half-smile thing. She shook her head. "Of course. Get over yourself. Will you help me?"

"Mindy… I can't. I've got way too many other things to do." He did feel bad, saying no, but being around her any more than absolutely necessary was courting disaster. He couldn't risk it.

"Well, maybe we could do a trade off? I'm like a prodigy with this chemistry stuff." She nudged his notebook with the tip of her pencil, eyes imploring him to say yes.

Hell, he wanted to help her. He wanted to settle into the under-stuffed couches in the student center and quiz her with flash cards. He wanted to see her eyes light up when she got answers right. He wanted someone to talk to about… all this ridiculous stuff they were supposed to learn in just a few short years. Wanting it so badly scared him a little. "No… I can't."

She sighed, withdrawing from his personal bubble. "That's what I was afraid you were going to say… I didn't want to have to break out the big guns."

He cut a sideways glance toward her, brow furrowing in annoyance. "Big guns?"

Her phone was out in seconds. She unlocked the screen with a deft swipe of two fingers, clicking her tongue as she scrolled through her photo album. Sliding the device across the table between them, she continued. "The world doesn't  _have_  to know about you moonlighting as an  _exotic dancer_ … but it very well could."

"It's entertainment modeling!" He hissed at her, reaching forward to cover the screen.

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to."

"You're blackmailing me!" He lost control of the volume of his voice, barking the question at her. A bookish young man at the end of their table glared silently at Danny.

"I wouldn't call it blackmail… I don't want money, just a little help. And I'm offering something in return too."

He gritted his teeth, slowly shutting the book in front of him before shoving it back down into his bag. Pushing back from the table, he rose from his chair. "You got a lot of nerve."

Mindy was a little worried that she'd gone too far, but she couldn't back down now. "It's only for a couple months."

"Once a week, and no talking about anything other than our classes."

She shook her head, countering his offer. "Twice a week, and I get to talk about whatever I want ten minutes before and ten minutes after."

"Fine, twice a week, but you can't talk about reality TV."

"Deal. Meet me here next week, same time."

She stuck her hand out to shake on it, surprising Danny with a million watt smile. His palm was sweaty against hers, but he only felt a little self-conscious about it. Her smile never wavered. Danny wanted to tighten his grip and yank her in closer, hold her to him like she was some kind of life raft. It was a strange impulse, and he dropped her hand unceremoniously, turning to leave.

* * *

Mindy let out a long sigh of relief as she watched him walk away. She felt like she'd been holding her breath since she'd walked into the quiet library. She may have told Danny she wasn't stalking him, but anyone watching her would have been hard pressed to call it anything else. She'd followed him from his last class, loitering in the lobby of the building to gather her courage.

She didn't know what else to do, honestly. Danny was the only option. Professors paid attention to people who participated in class, and lately she'd been ten seconds behind all the other eager brown-nosers, answers on the tips of their tongues. Med school was just as much about proving your moxie as it was about learning. The field was competitive and internships and residencies were like gold. It wasn't likely that she'd get a glowing recommendation from someone who didn't even recognize her name.

Her classmates would eat her alive if they knew she was struggling at all. And Danny… he was just right there, a perfect solution to her problem. She knew he'd sailed through this anatomy class. Apparently he had a certain aptitude for the stuff, a borderline photographic memory when it came to parts of the body. At least that's what she'd gleaned from her snooping. One quick office visit and a jimmied filing cabinet lock had provided her with all the information she needed.

It did worry her that she seemed to still have feelings for him. Weird feelings, amorphous blob-like feels wiggling around like amoeba under a microscope. She tried to bat them away whenever they crept up on her. She didn't know what they meant, an unsettling combination of her starved libido and genuine affection. He was  _married!_  She found herself chanting the statement under her breath sometimes when she woke up in the morning, the vague shapes of another inappropriate dream still blurry in the back of her mind.

Blinking away the images that sprung unbidden to her mind, yet again, she collected her book bag and stalked out of the library, heels clicking on the parquet floors. Who the hell had dreams like that? She really had to stop eating candy so late at night.

By the time she descended into the subway, she was feeling more confident. She had to be ruthless here, this was her future she was thinking about. At this point Danny was a means to an end, a grouchy, broody, unnecessarily attractive,  _married_ means to an end.

Her key slipped into the lock with a slick sound, the tumblers engaging in a satisfying click. All she wanted was to slip into some sweats and settle in with her books, highlighter in one hand, glass of wine in the other.

She got two steps into the apartment before nearly breaking her neck, toe jamming painfully into a heavy cardboard box. "What the hell?" They were all over the place, stacked like jenga blocks, thick black magic marker slashed across them:  _kitchen, bedroom, shoes_ … "Gwen?"

Her blonde roommate materialized, popping out from behind a rather large stack of boxes, tape dispenser in one hand. "Mindy, you're home. Good… We need to talk."

Mindy slowly tiptoed around the boxes, trepidation filling her. This couldn't be happening. Things were just starting to fall into place, and Gwen was about to yank the rug out from under her… literally. "What is going on?"

Gwen looked at her, sympathy painting the lines of her perfectly proportioned face. "Let's sit down.."

Mindy was speechless. Gwen was breaking up with her. That was the only explanation for the gentle hand at her elbow guiding her to the ratty sofa. She complied, mind racing ahead to the arguments she could make. She would stop stealing Gwen's shoes, stop using her toothpaste, stop leaving the dishes in the sink. She would even put back the twenty bucks she 'borrowed' for a manicure last week.

She finally stopped mentally freaking out to take a close look at Gwen. The woman was glowing, eyes bright, a huge smile spread across her face. It didn't jive with the conversation Mindy was preparing for. What was going on?

"Carl proposed!"

"Who?"

"Mindy!" Gwen's smile dropped, an annoyed frown taking its place. "The person I've been dating. The guy from the firm. God, you're so self-centered."

"The pedophile? You've been on like two dates with him!"

"Mindy, no. He's not a pedophile. We've been dating for two months."

"Isn't he like fifty?"

"He's thirty-two, and really nice… and I'm in love." There it was again, the blinding smile. Ugh, it made Mindy feel nauseated. Gwen waggled her left hand. The giant diamond there glinted, the twinkling somehow mocking her. "We're eloping. He has this giant beautiful estate in Greenwich…"

"What about law school?" Mindy didn't actually care about her friend's career choice. Gwen could live out whatever kind of life she wanted… as long as it involved staying in the city and being her roommate until she finished med-school. "Don't you want to be a big successful lawyer? You could represent Beyoncé when she finally divorces Jay-Z. Think of Blue Ivy. Don't you want the best for that little angel?"

"Mindy, this was always plan A and you know it. I want to be a mom, a housewife. I want to be a lady who lunches and organizes charity functions."

Mindy's shoulders dropped. She felt like a bird trapped in a net, the weights tangling around her feet. "What am I supposed to do? I can't afford to live here by myself."

Yet another consoling pat on the shoulder. "You've got two months to figure it out. We live in a really nice area… too nice almost."

"You want me to go live in an urban tenement? Share my bedroom with rats the size of my head?"

"Maybe you can stay here, find a roommate on craigslist?"

"They never caught the craigslist killer. Do you want me to get murdered?"

Gwen sighed, getting up from the sofa. "Mindy. I love you, but this is happening. You have plenty of time to figure it out. We'll go apartment hunting next week, ok?"

Mindy felt like she was going to cry. She collapsed face first into the couch, moaning into the cushions. So much for studying tonight… she couldn't think of anything other than her impending homelessness, her stomach churning like she'd just eaten an entire bag of cotton candy. What the hell was she going to do?

**A/N: Thanks to anyone who still reads this and is kind enough to leave comments. At this point I'm really working for the home stretch, and it's** **really hard to write these chapters. I really really want to finish it, but I do see that maybe it isn't as good as previous chapters. oh well, C'est la vie.**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Thanks for all the kind comments. They really do have a measurable effect (aka a second chapter in two days). I am DETERMINED to finish this story. The chapters may be a little shorter than usual. I hope they don't feel rushed.**

The library looked different after the sun went down. Instead of bright natural light streaming through floor to ceiling windows, the huge spaces were illuminated by the soft glow of strategically placed lamps. Danny hated that it was dark by five, the whole place was uncomfortably intimate. He was almost glad Mindy hadn't been paying attention to him since they sat down.

"Hello, earth to Mindy." Danny snapped his fingers in front of her face, relieved when she blinked away the thousand yard stare she'd been wearing for the past hour. "What is going on with you?"

She shrugged, looking down at her notebook. "Nothing."

This was their fourth study session in two weeks, and she didn't seem to be getting much out of it, even though he left each time feeling more confident in his chemistry abilities. She put him through the paces, drilling metabolic pathways and enzyme catalysts into his brain until it felt like they'd been there for years. His own skills as a tutor either didn't measure of to hers, or she just had no interest in paying attention to him. Either way, he felt useless.

Index cards covered in cramped writing littered the table between them, textbooks flipped open to graphic illustrations of the human body. Mindy had burrowed her way into the mess, clearing a little spot on the table in front of her for her notebook. Instead of jotting down columns of organized terminology, like he'd suggested, there were just half a dozen little doodles on the lined paper. Dissatisfied with her response he tried again. "Mindy..."

She snapped her head up, tearing her eyes away from the blank index cards, brown eyes wide with alarm. "What? huh?"

"You've been lost in thought the entire time we've been here."

"So what? That's what you do when you study… you have thoughts."

"You're thinking about the material?" He gestured to the notes in front of him, arching one eyebrow at her when she nodded. "Oh really? What's this then?" He pointed the eraser of his pencil at the base of his throat.

She could see his pulse fluttering there, a faint shimmer against the collar of his button-up shirt. "Well that's a Homo Sapiens Sapiens Italianus Know-it-all-icus."

He shot her an unamused look. "Well how about this?" The pencil shifted, now pointed at the strip of skin on his forearm. The monster had rolled up his sleeves like some Calvin Klein model, she wrinkled her nose at him.

"Statenium Islandricon Smartassius."

"I'm sure Dr. Shulman will appreciate your sharp wit on the next exam, but that's not even good fake latin." Danny leaned forward collecting the detritus and shoving it down into his bag. "When you're ready to take this seriously, let me know."

She slumped down in her seat, frown pulling her frown into a dramatic pout. He paused, lips parted just slightly as though he wanted to say something. There was a beat when Mindy thought he was going to just shake off the urge to meddle and leave her high and dry in the library. She pouted even harder, crossing her arms.

Danny sighed, staring down at her. The hard lines of frustration slowly melted away, reluctant curiosity replacing them. Damn it. "Is there something you need to ... talk about?"

"Certainly not. I've already used my allotted ten minutes, sir." Words laced with sarcasm, she didn't look at him, instead focusing on the cuticle at her thumb, worrying at it like it was the most important thing in the world.

He tossed his bag back on the table, circling it to drop down in the chair beside Mindy. "Is it  _my_ fault you chose to spend that time summarizing the plot of the latest Hunger Games movie? Which, by the way, I've read the books, so…"

Just as he expected, her mouth dropped open in indignation, and she leaned forward to punch him in the arm, hard. He was still surprised by the wallop she was able to land whenever he said something she found outrageous. "You've read them? Wait.. are you team Gale or team Peeta?"

He rolled his eyes, settling back into the hard chair. "Mindy…" He looked at her scoldingly, stern lecture on the tip of his tongue. "...focusing on the love triangle instead of the revolution is exactly what the Capitol would want you to do."

She smiled at him. It was small and grateful. He had no idea what had her down, but putting a smile on her face made him feel like he was doing something right. He turned his chair around to face her, wincing at the scraping sound the legs made against the polished floor. "What is it?"

"Nothing's going right."

"Yeah, well..." He wasn't one to gush false optimism. He'd been on the receiving end of things not going right far too many times to tell her anything was going to get better.

"That's so helpful."

He shrugged, digging deeper even though all he wanted to do was just tell her to cheer up and move on. "What's not going right… specifically?"

"Gwen moved out, I'm broke, and god, med-school is  _hard_. Not like, taking all AP classes in high school hard, but like  _really_  hard. It makes me want to crawl in a hole and never come out. I barely sleep, I barely eat. I can't even remember the last time I did anything other than study. Do you see my hair?" She plucked a strand of hair off her shoulder, holding it up to the light. "Those are split ends Danny,  _split ends!_ "

"Gwen moved out?"

She nodded, blowing out an angry snort. "She's shacking up with some sugar grandaddy and leaving me to fend for myself."

He nudged her with his elbow, smirking. "You could do that."

Her lips twitched, but she fought the smile. "Puh-lease… old men think I have sass-mouth… I mean, I  _do_  have sass-mouth, so..." She sighed. "I can't remember the last time I went on a date, and now I can't even think about that because I'm going to be homeless in a couple weeks. Even I can't make a trash bag look chic."

He wracked his brain looking for a solution. Finding a place to live in New York City was a nightmare. He'd once seen a crawl space advertised as a bedroom for rent, the hole in the ceiling labeled a 'sun roof.' All for more than he made in two months. "Um…"

"Yeah, um's the right word… shit." She buried her face in her hands, groaning into her palms.

"Maybe not…" He told himself to stop, to just pat her on the shoulder and commiserate… nothing else. "There's someone in my building who keeps posting roommate notices on the bulletin board in the lobby. The rent there's pretty reasonable."

"Who is it?"

"I mean… I don't know them personally. Just the name."

"And? What is it? Don't leave me hanging. You're the only thing standing between me and sleeping under a bridge."

"Ashley Tookers."

"She sounds nice. Get me her number."

* * *

They walked together back to Danny's building, each of them tucking their chins down into wool coats. The weather was nippy, the first bone chilling cold snap moving in off the water. It made it impossible to carry a conversation as they trudged along the sidewalk. He preferred it that way. Every time they started talking, she ended up notching herself into some exposed cranny of his life. He wasn't sure there were anymore platonic crannies left...

He didn't live in the nicest neighborhood, but it wasn't that bad. The building itself had a mixture of artistic types and small families, and there was always the aroma of some food wafting down the stairs when he pushed through the glass doors of the lobby. Danny didn't mind. It reminded him of home. Christina hated it.

Mindy looked around curiously, noting the leaded panes of the glass on door, the ornate ironwork of the railing as they climbed up the steps. The cork board on the wall beside the walk-up was covered in brightly fluttering paper. She smiled to herself. There were notices for knitting circles and posters for lost pets all mixed in with people trying to sell various things.

Danny stepped in front of her, yanking down a plain gray sheet of construction paper, a short little paragraph printed in boxy handwriting.  _Roommate needed. Must love dogs, must have reliable income, must love dogs, non-smoking._

Mindy snatched the notice from Danny's hands, bouncing excitedly. "Sounds perfect."

She pushed past him, headed toward the stairs. His hand at her elbow yanked her back a little abruptly. "Not so fast."

"What?"

"You do realize you'll be living in the same building as me if this works out?"

She nodded. "And?"

"And you don't think that'll be weird?" He was still holding onto her, the warmth of her skin seeping through her coat. He jerked away his hand like she was on fire.

"Why would it be weird?" The question came out slowly, her eyes narrowing at him. If he was going to have this awkward conversation with her, she was going to make him spell everything out.

"We have history."

"No, we have biochemistry."

"Mindy, that's not-"

"I know, I know… I just don't think it's an issue. There aren't exactly lingering feelings between us. It's been  _years_ after all. That would be crazy, right?"

"Right …" Danny blinked. Did he feel disappointed? Of course not… He was just surprised to see her behaving so nonchalantly after throwing herself at him a few short weeks ago. "Of course there aren't any lingering  _anythings_. We're cool." His voice was a little higher than normal. He cleared his throat, a little too hard, lapsing into a cough."Ahem… ladies first." He gestured toward the stairs, anxiety swirling in the pit of his stomach as he watched her climb them.

"Oh my god, this is the worst." She was panting. "What floor does Ashley live on?"

"The fifth."

"A fifth floor walkup?" She stopped in her tracks, glaring down at him.

He was still three steps below her, but he kept climbing, putting his hands on the small of her back and pushing her forward. "You'll survive."

* * *

Danny stood beside her as she knocked on Ashley's door, a dubious look spread across his face. He could already hear a dog yapping from behind the door, and the deep masculine shushing the followed it made him a little worried. Before he could drag Mindy away and tell her this was a bad idea, the knob began to turn.

The door didn't swing open fully, its owner keeping the chain on for safety measures. A man peeked out at Mindy, eyes darting to Danny quickly before returning to her. "If you're selling something, I don't have any money." He squinted, looking down at Mindy's scarf. "Unless maybe they're tiny little sweaters… Olivia's been cold lately."

Mindy shook her head. "No, I'm here about the roommate." She waved the gray sheet of paper in front of her. "Is Ashley here?"

Without answering her, the man shut the door, sliding the chain free before opening it again. He was tall, hair short yet somehow still unkempt. He had his hands on his hips, beaming down at her. "That's me… Ashley Tookers."

"What?" This time it was Danny asking the question. He stepped in front of Mindy, looking their new companion up an down. "Isn't Ashley a girl's name? What game are you playing?"

"Au contraire, Ashley is a totally unisex name. I mean… technically all names are, right?"

Mindy nodded, ceding the point. It wasn't enough for Danny. "What?"

The taller man sighed. "Ok, if you must know. My name isn't Ashley. I just like it better than Morgan. It was my grandfather's name… and my grandma's been mad at me lately. Just trying to get back on her good side. The woman's got a mean left hook."

"So your name's Morgan?" Mindy was pushing Danny out of the way, peering up at Morgan curiously. He looked harmless enough, maybe a little soft in the head, but that could be to her advantage.

"Yup, but you can call me Ashley."

Danny shook his head. "Nope."

"Relax Danny, we can call him whatever he wants."

"No… I mean, nope… you're not living here."

She turned, an intense glare pointed directly at him."You have absolutely  _no_ say."

Morgan stepped out into the hall, stopping the protest on Danny's lips by shimmying awkwardly between them. He placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "You know, usually I wouldn't mind having a couple move in, but you two seem like you'd be pretty loud in the bedroom, and I don't know if I can go through that again. My last roommate was a screamer. I had to give her an ultimatum. I told her, 'Grandma, you either shut your door when you have male company over, or you can get out.' " He sighed. "She chose to get out."

Mindy shrugged off Morgan's hand. "Uh, no. We're definitely not a couple."

Morgan looked closer at Danny. "Ooooh, you're the guy that lives downstairs. Your wife is the blonde chick always taking pictures of things."

Mindy nodded, watching as Danny remained speechless. "He sure is. Danny, why don't you go see what your wife is up to? Morgan can show me his apartment."

She spun on her heel, practically skipping through the door. Morgan took a couple steps after her, stopping only briefly to turn back to Danny and say, "It's a baller move to keep your mistress in the same building you live in. High-five?"

Danny grunted, turning to stomp down the hall, leaving Morgan hanging.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: still gooooing. Thanks for all the kind comments and encouragement. They're really good fuel for me to finish this thing. I have it all planned out... in my head. We'll see how it goes :D**

Living with Morgan and his dogs was not what Mindy had pictured herself in her early twenties. She told herself it was a character building exercise, that it would be a  _hilarious_  chapter in her future memoir. The pep talk rang hollow when she was going through a dozen lint rollers a week, and it was particularly useless when she was cleaning up dog vomit. Olivia had a penchant for devouring any and all makeup left laying out.

Still, nothing could dampen the enthusiasm Mindy had for her future life. She was going to be a successful doctor with her own practice. Then she could dress like she'd never even heard the words 'sale rack' and all of her clients would be movie stars… the really artistic ones who lived in New York and not skeevy Los Angeles. Morgan was a bump in the road… a giant, loud, frequently disgusting bump in the road.

And living in the same building as Danny was actually turning out to be a good thing. At first she had constantly worried about running into Christina in the lobby, brushing past the ice queen in the stairwell. But it never happened. and she soon found out that Danny's wife spent very little time at home, working at odd hours and traveling all over the place for her photography. Those were a few of the details Mindy pulled out of Danny, like an old timey dentist with rusty pliers going after a decaying molar. It wasn't an easy task.

Their study sessions twice a week went smoothly, spilling over the time they both allotted. Frequently they walked home together, Mindy chattering thoughtlessly about the latest movie she'd seen fifteen minutes of while scarfing down a bowl of ramen noodles. Danny was a good listener… that or he'd learned to tune her out.

They would part at the fourth floor, Danny tucking his hands into his pockets and awkwardly saying goodbye as he turned down the hall. The last few times she'd thought there'd been some hesitance in his body language, a pregnant silence hanging in the air just before he shuffled away. Today it was the same. Mindy held her breath waiting for him to say whatever the hell he was thinking, but he just turned, as usual, and she felt her heart thump offbeat in her chest.

She adjusted the strap of her book bag, turning to look at the steps in front of her. It was easy to forget how lonely she was in the city. Danny made her feel like she had a friend, some kind of companionship. It was in this moment each day that she was reminded just how alone she really was. She blinked, surprised by the sudden moisture clouding her vision.

"Min?"

She stopped, foot resting on the first step as she turned to look back at him. "Yeah?"

He looked like a little boy, nervously putting his hands in his pockets. She could see a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. What the heck was he thinking? He rocked on his heels, attempting to look nonchalant, shrugging at the same time. Mindy almost wanted to laugh at the ridiculous picture he made.

"Um… would you, maybe, want to, uh…" He tugged his hand out of his jeans, fidgeting with the strap of his own book bag. "Ma, brought over lasagna last night, and Christina's in Hoboken, and she hates leftovers anyway…"

"Are you asking me if I want homemade lasagna made by a authentic Italian mother?"

He laughed. "Uh, yeah."

"The fact that you even have to ask makes me wonder if you've actually ever met me... Of course I would like lasagna. I was going to either eat ho-hos and hot pockets for dinner or steal whatever Morgan had been planning to eat. Which honestly, is like playing russian roulette."

She could see him relax, shoulders dropping in relief. He stepped forward and took her by the elbow, guiding her down the hall to the door of his apartment. "Come on."

Mindy looked down at her empty plate, her lips curling up into a pleased smile. Danny's mother sure knew her way around some pasta and sauce. Mindy's lips still tasted like berries, the wine she'd washed everything down with was still swirling in the glass in her hand. "Mmmm... "

Danny shoved back from the table, collecting the empty dishes and walking them over to the sink. "I'll tell ma her lasagna is a hit."

"Even better than Stouffer's."

He ran the water, giving the plates a quick rinse before leaving them in the bottom of the sink. One corner of his mouth twitched up in amusement. Annette Castellano would have an aneurysm if she heard anyone comparing her cooking to store bought frozen dinners. "You really don't eat home cooked food that often?"

She shook her head, taking another deep swig of wine, emptying the glass. "Nope. Even if I had time, which I don't, cooking is just… an unpleasant experience for me."

In the past Danny would have argued with anyone that thought cooking was hard or 'not for' them. He'd seen Mindy make detailed charts of the human body, sixteen-letter words flowing from her pen effortlessly. He knew that if she put her mind to it she could conquer cooking like anything else in her life, but she just didn't want to… it wasn't her, and that was fine. "Ma drops off food like every other day. I can never finish it all. I end up throwing half of it away."

Mindy rose from her chair, leaning forward. She focused on grabbing the wine bottle sitting in the middle of the table, her depth perception slightly off. She watched the ruby liquid splash in the curved bell of her wine glass, the floral scent floating up to her nose as she raised it to her lips. "Well, I'm always up for dinner."

Danny leaned against the sink watching her as she closed the space between them. One eyebrow raised at her last comment. This was a strange scene for a married man to find himself in, and suddenly he felt like he was cheating on his wife. "Sure, sure… I'll, uh, see if I can find some tupperware in the future."

She wasn't drunk, not really, but there was just enough wine flowing through her veins to make her feel like she should step even closer to him. She felt warm, a layer of heat simmering between her skin and the clothes she was wearing. She recognized it for what it was, a physical neediness that meant she really needed to get the hell out of here. Instead she took one more step closer. "Tupperware?"

Danny watched her already red lips part, just a millimeter before raising the glass one more time. She took a dainty sip, darting her tongue out to catch a droplet resting on her bottom lip. The move was blatantly erotic, at least in Danny's mind. His nostrils flared, and angry breath blowing out. He slipped away from her, darting back to the table, clearing away the rest of the dishes. "Yeah, you know, little plastic bowls with lids."

Mindy set her glass in the sink, shaking herself out of this strange headspace. She really needed to get out more. Danny was just the closest warm body, and it had been  _so long_ since she'd really let loose. Hell, even her battery operated boyfriend had been woefully neglected lately.

She patted her stomach, awkwardly trying to diffuse the weird sexual tension in the room. "Well, that was good. I'm so full, I think I need to go lie down."

Danny nodded, getting up to walk her to the door. When she was finally standing on the other side of the threshold, he relaxed a little bit. It had been nice to sit and talk with someone over dinner, her presence was more than pleasant. He wished he could enjoy it more without feeling guilty, without wishing he could lean forward and taste the wine on her lips. "Thanks for keeping me company…"

She nodded. "Right back at you. Maybe we can do it again?" Even as she asked the question, she already knew it wasn't likely.

"Yeah… maybe." She turned to walk away. "Goodnight, Mindy."

"Goodnight, Danny."

* * *

Danny jiggled his keys, finding the tinkling sound somewhat comforting in the cavernous silence of the church. It was too early for this kind of thing, but he'd been thinking about it all night. He'd woken up hours before his alarm went off, and slipped out of his apartment without a word to Christina. She hadn't gotten back from Jersey until nearly two a.m. and he'd feigned sleep when she'd slipped into bed.

He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of beeswax and incense. It hadn't changed in all the years he'd been coming, the dark grain of the pews gleaming with polish. It was really too early to be here, but Father Francis was used to Danny coming in at odd hours.

He'd fallen out of the habit of confessing when he was an undergrad, only doing it on the rare occasion he had time to visit his mother. He wasn't entirely sure if he believed in it anymore, but his dinner with Mindy pushed him to crawl out of bed and walk the several blocks it took to get here. Better safe than sorry.

The sound of shuffling feet caught his attention, stilling the noisy keys in his hand. Father Francis slowly made his way down the center aisle, cloudy eyes twinkling when they lit on Danny. Ignoring the hour, he said, "Daniel, nice to see you, as always. What can I do for you?"

Danny felt a stab of guilt. He hadn't been entirely open that last few times he'd confessed. It kind of defeated the purpose of coming at all, but he had no idea how to tell a man of the cloth that he'd been taking his clothes off for money. Honestly, he was angry at himself for feeling so ashamed of what he was doing. It was how he paid his bills, his mother's bills, and it hurt absolutely no one. And yet, his ears flamed, and he felt sick when he imagined divulging this information to anyone.

It was more complicated than the everyday sins he suffered from; jealousy, anger. Those were things he talked about every week, and without fail he felt lighter walking out of the church. Still, he wasn't going to tell the priest about gyrating in a thong in front of a bunch of middle aged women. No, that was off the table.

His nervousness this morning stemmed from the fact that he had recently added yet another 'everyday' sin to his list. One that made his palms sweat and his heart race when he thought about it.

Father Francis would sit in quiet judgement when he told him how much he thought about a woman who wasn't his wife. And they weren't your garden variety impure thoughts. It was the way she laughed, and how it made him feel warm from the inside out. The way her eyes were so warm he sometimes thought they were made of melted chocolate, and he found himself glancing over at her at every opportunity just on the off chance that she might look up at him. It was how she made him feel like maybe there was more to life, that he could feel full and satisfied and not merely okay. She made him feel like he could be a real person again, a good person.

Which was the most ironic thing, since every time he sat next to her in the library, warmth radiating from her favorite pashmina, all he could think about was scooting just close enough to lean forward and taste her lips. And how when he found her already slouched at one of the polished tables, all he wanted to do was sneak up behind her and bury his nose in the hair at her nape, arms tingling to wrap around her. He would never commit infidelity, and he knew the way he felt was wrong, but it tore him apart inside.

This wasn't something a few Hail Marys could absolve. Maybe confession wasn't the right route. He took a deep breath. "Father, I, uh... I need some advice."


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Thanks for the great comments, everyone is so supportive. I continue to push myself to finish this story because I like it and really want to get to that ending I've had planned for a while now. Please let me know what you think of this chapter.**

Father Francis looked at him rather sadly as they talked. Danny knew he was drenched in sweat, ears red with embarrassment. The old man laid a reassuring hand on Danny's forearm. "My son, this is a rather worrisome situation, but it's certainly not the first time a man has entertained these notions. You have to be strong. Every marriage has its rough patches."

He shook his head. "It just seems like it's all one big rough patch… and when it's not, it's just … nothing." Danny blew out a long breath, fighting the tight feeling in his throat. "I think I've made the biggest mistake of my life."

The priest smiled sadly at him. "You already know how the church feels about these things. I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. Maybe you did make a mistake, maybe it would be easier if you both just went your separate ways… but that's not why you came to me. You and I both know that."

"I can't leave my wife, I'm not that kind of man." The words came out a little more forcefully than he'd intended, his hands balling into fists where they rested in his lap. "We made a commitment. I can't just throw it away."

"No, it would seem that you can't."

"But... I want things that I shouldn't. I've come so close…"

"Daniel, there are all kinds of marriages. Sometime's the lifeblood is passion, blind love. Even that isn't enough. No marriage is effortless. Whatever the case may be you have to work to be companions, to have respect for each other. There are a fortunate few who find unconditional love and happiness and unending friendship, but don't for a second think that it's easy for them. Everyone has to work at it, and there's never any one particular answer."

"I don't know that she cares to work at it… I don't even know if she realizes anything is wrong."

"Maybe you should talk to her."

Danny dropped his head in his hands, mumbling against his fingers. He could feel the cold band against his lips. "How do I start that conversation? 'Hey Christina, I'm lonely and I think I'm falling for someone else. How was your day?' She'd scratch my eyes out."

"I think maybe 'I'm lonely' would be a good start. Perhaps you two haven't been on the right path from the beginning."

"What?"

"The church offers couples counseling to those who are married under its auspices, but…"

"... we aren't."

"No, and maybe that's something that needs to be remedied. You need a fresh start, to recommit yourself to your marriage, and this time do it the right way."

* * *

He went straight from the church to the university, all the while thinking about how things were going to change, how he and Christina were finally going to be a family rather than two people who just happened to have both their names on a lease.

His classes crept by sluggishly, one by one until he knew that he wasn't going to be able to finish out the day. He told himself he was leaving early because he wanted to start his new life right away… and not because he couldn't face his next class or the person who liked to sit next to him there.

For once, New York City had seemed quiet, people leisurely strolling past him as they enjoyed their free afternoons. The sky was clear and he could hear the sounds of dogs barking happily in a nearby park. Tension pulsed through him in little waves, anxiety and certainty taking turns dancing through him.

He took his time strolling home, knowing Christina would be there waiting for him, probably still twisted in the sheets of their bed while sleeping off her late night photoshoot. He'd never imagined the answer to his problems was so simple, and there was a quiet voice in the back of his mind that whispered it was too simple to work really. But now that he'd latched onto a solution, he was loathe to let it go.

He was going to ask her to marry him again, in a church, in front of friends and family. They'd gone about things all wrong in the beginning, set off on the wrong foot. It  _had_ to be why he was accosted with feelings of regret almost every day. He just needed to commit, damnit, and things would go back to the way they were supposed to. All of this uncertainty was bound to go away...

Maybe Father Francis was right. The reality of marriage had never settled over him. It all still felt surreal, like it was a dream he was about to wake up from. He felt detached, a spectator watching two people go through the motions. A few signatures at the courthouse, a chaste kiss in front of his mother… it was all just a bit hollow to him, a plaster cast of something that should have been carved in marble.

He turned the corner, his building looming in front of him suddenly. He felt like he'd never seen it like this before, the red bricks reflecting the afternoon light warmly, a few kids sitting on the stoop gossiping, their phones held out in front of them as they took selfies.

Normally he'd be irked by having to shuffle past anyone to get to the front door, but he didn't mind today. The girls had their knees drawn up to their chins, book bags piled at their feet, arms threaded together as they made funny faces at their phones. Danny couldn't remember ever having been that carefree, that happy to just sit around and be. Except… Maybe he could. The moments never lasted long, fluttering away like dust in the wind, but sometimes he felt that lightness surround him, sometimes with Mindy.

The tinkling laughter distracted him from the doubt that had begun to envelop him, jerking him back to reality and the nerves plaguing him. He was doing it again, thinking of the one person he shouldn't be. He needed to focus on his plan. If Christina asked why they needed to get married again, he couldn't be beset with images of Mindy laughing.

He darted through the lobby, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the fourth floor landing. Wiping his palms on his jeans, he stood in front of the door practically vibrating. He still wasn't sure this was the right thing, but he had to do  _something_.

He turned the knob, surprised to find it unlocked. The door swung open quietly, a cold premonitory feeling washing over Danny. It was quiet in the apartment as usual, the tiny tv off, no radio to break up the stillness in the air. Everything was as he'd left it hours before, his coat still slung over the back of the loveseat in the living room, textbooks scattered across the kitchen table.

He stepped into the kitchen, brow furrowing as he glanced into the sink. There were two wine glasses sitting in the bottom of it, the dregs of a forgotten last sip pooling in the curved glass. The top of one finger traced the lip of a glass, feeling the moisture still clinging to it. He swallowed, taking a deep breath to call out Christina's name, but the sound caught in his chest when he heard voices.

They were muffled, softly filtered through the bedroom wall, the same wall that had huge blown up black and white photographs of the two of them. He stared blankly at one particularly large photo. In it she had her arms around his neck and was gazing adoringly up at him. He could remember her telling him not to look at the camera, placing his hands just so at her waist while she waited for the timer to snap the picture. He stared hard at the contrived scene as hushed tones interspersed with the occasional laugh drifted over to him. He went cold, fear settling in his stomach like a leaden ball.

Tearing his eyes away, he walked robotically toward his bedroom door. His hand and his brain were not connected, and he watched it with some fascination as it grasped the knob, knuckles white with the force of their grip. All he could think about was the voices getting louder, and yet he still couldn't discern any words. The two people in the bedroom weren't speaking, the inarticulate sounds telling the true story of what was going on.

The hinges squeaked as Danny flung the door open, wood banging with a loud crack against the doorstop on the wall.

* * *

Danny had a terrible temper. It had always been that way really. If anyone asked his mother about it, she would simply shake her head and proceed to tell them about the time he took his dad's baseball collection and threw it in the East River. He'd only been thirteen, but even then Annette had known not to follow him out that evening. There had been a stony look on his face, fire behind his flashing eyes as he slammed the screen door behind him. He hadn't come home until nearly midnight, eyes puffy, voice hoarse. She never asked where he went even though he'd come home smelling of beer and cigarettes. And he had never volunteered the information. Let the boy work through things on his own, she had thought.

Except, he'd never really worked through anything, just found a place inside of himself to lock up the hurt, keep it close by as a reminder of what he deserved. The problem with this process was that the pain had to be broken, wrestled angrily into its cage, and it wasn't a pretty process.

The apartment around him was a disaster, shattered glass littering the floor where he'd tossed the wine glasses, a giant hole in his bedroom door where he'd decided to put his fist through it. The whole place was littered with debris.

Christina had clutched the sheet to her breast, yelling passionately at him about how he'd made her do this, and he'd stood there quietly, letting the rage boil inside him with no release. He knew she was leaving him, he just had to wait it out, leash the violence inside of him until the only thing left to take it out on we're objects.

Unfortunately, he didn't have as much control as he would have liked, and when her photography assistant stumbled out of their bedroom half naked, Danny felt his muscles cool with unreleased energy as he sprang across the room. His fist made contact with the other man's eye socket, pain reverberating back through Danny's hand and up his arm. A detached part of his brain listed all of the ligaments and muscles he felt tensing, wondering idly if his knuckles had done more damage to the man's orbital socket or vice versa.

This coldly logical thought process was batted away almost immediately, the taller man wrapping his arms around Danny and tumbling to the floor. Embarrassingly, Danny was pinned to the carpet, completely subdued in less than a minute.

He waited for a beating, but it didn't come, and he was almost disappointed. It would be good to have some real pain to concentrate on, and not this ephemeral feeling of being crushed from the inside out.

Christina tugged her lover off of him, shoving his clothes into his hands and beseeching him to leave. Danny stared at her, back in his quiet space, this time sprawled out on the floor. She whirled on him. "This is your fault!"

"My fault?" He got up slowly, glaring at her from a few feet away. He wanted to sound outraged, to be filled with righteous indignation, but he couldn't push away the niggling guilt he'd been feeling for weeks. He tried anyway. "I'm not the one who's fucking some guy instead of her husband!"

"My husband doesn't give a shit about me!"

"What! Everything I do is for you. I do a job I hate so I can go to med-school, so we can have a good life."

"I want a good life  _now_ Danny, and it doesn't have anything to do with money or your career. I want someone who'll live in the moment with me, and you won't. I'm not the only one who's committed infidelity!"

She was crying now, and he couldn't understand it. He hadn't seen so much emotion from her in months. Watching the carefree facade slip was unexpected.

"What the hell are you talking about? I've never slept with anyone else!" He was screaming now, rage just beginning to boil over. "I would never cheat."

She scoffed, laughing bitterly. "You've been committing emotional infidelity for months."

Danny was speechless. His mouth snapped shut, jaw clenching and unclenching painfully. He stepped around her and went into their bedroom, grabbing a few things. "I guess I'll be leaving."

She shook her head. "Don't even bother. I'm flying to Papua New Guinea next week for a freelance gig. I'll be gone for months. You can send my stuff to my parents."

And with that she'd quietly gotten dressed walked out the door with her camera bag. His marriage had dissipated as quickly as it had come together. The door had barely clicked shut before his temper had gotten the best of him, and hours later he found himself lying in the middle of a tornado of broken things, knuckles scraped and bleeding, huge blooms of sweat staining his shirt. He had to get the hell out of his apartment.

Danny was seeing double, the shot glass on the bar in front of him shifting in and out of focus as he reached for it. The amber liquid splashed against his fingers, barely making it down his gullet. He relished the burning sensation, letting his eyes drift shut as he dropped his forehead to the scratched up counter. It had been a long time since he'd been this stinking drunk. His face was numb, hands like foreign objects lying in front of him, legs dangling from the barstool.

He tapped his index and middle finger against the upside down shot glass, not bothering to look up. Al would refill it without questions, just like he'd been all night, just add it to the growing tab he'd opened hours earlier.

The bartender eyed him questioningly, but tipped up the bottle of whiskey anyway, filling the double shot glass up to the brim, surface tension causing a rounded bubble at the top. Danny slid off the bar stool before downing the entire thing and slamming it back down on the counter. He blinked slowly at the man and said, "Living a lie will get you nowhere."

Or at least that's what he intended to say. His slurred speech made the words a little indiscernible. Danny turned to leave, but stopped before he took two steps. The bar around him was pitching back and forth unsteadily, and the floor seemed to have unexpected dips in it every time he tried to regain his footing. He decided to sit down, falling in an ungainly heap in front of the bar.

He closed his eyes, just to rest them for a second. They were so heavy, being pulled down by sandbags. The sound of the bar faded, tinny classic rock muffling into barely noticeable notes, the smell of bourbon and body odor fading away. Blackness enveloped him.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: I know this story has been slow going, and it kind of drives me crazy sometimes when I try to write a chapter and it goes nowhere, but I think finally I've gotten the story moving again with this chapter. I can see the end in sight. Thanks for all the support and feedback. It truly means the world to me.**

Silk pajamas were so decadent, like molten mother of pearl chasing across her body. Mindy reveled in the luxurious feel against her skin, and told herself she would send Gwen the most heartfelt thank-you note for the belated birthday present. Tonight was the first night she'd had free in weeks, and she intended to take full advantage of Morgan's absence. He was on a cruise with his grandma for the next three weeks. Mindy thanked her lucky stars for the creepily close relationship the pair had.

She sat down on the loveseat in the living room, bowl of popcorn in her lap, a big-gulp mug full of wine at her elbow. She was going to watch romantic movies and drink herself into a fuzzy warm slumber. She wasn't going to think about the finals coming up in a few short weeks, or the half finished projects she needed to complete. She wasn't going to think about how her mother was visiting family in India over the holidays, and that she had to spend her favorite time of year alone. Nope, all she was going to contemplate was the ruggedly handsome good looks of Michael Fassbender, and the way firelight reflected in his eyes when they were welling with tears, and maybe even the way he filled a pair of trousers… well definitely that last thing.

She most definitely wasn't going to think about how her only friend in the city was also a married man who she'd been having sex dreams about. Lurid sex dreams that had her all hot and bothered in the mornings. Those dreams were beginning to haunt her. Sometimes when they were sitting in the library, he'd look up at her through his eyelashes, smirking against his will at something she'd said, and she'd wonder if she was dreaming. If it was a dream, then the books lying on the table wouldn't stand a chance. They'd be tossed in the floor in seconds, along with her bra and sopping wet panties.

She blinked. Shit. She was doing it again. Could anyone blame her? The movie she was watching didn't even get interesting until a half hour in. She picked up the remote and skipped ahead, taking a long pull on her big-gulp straw. She sighed as the Fassy appeared on the screen, shirtless. There, that was better.

Crunching on popcorn, she settled further down into the cushions, tucking her fuzzy socks under her legs. She'd missed this. Med school was sucking everything out of her, and it was time to recharge. Halfway through her giant mug, everything got a little bit looser, a little warmer. This was pleasant.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when her phone started buzzing. The device had migrated through the throw pillows and settled directly under her ass. She scrambled around looking for it, spilling popcorn all over the place. Too bad Morgan had taken his dogs with him, those little yappers were good for cleaning up the snacks she spilled.

Fishing the phone out from under her, she squinted at it. It was exactly the person she wasn't supposed to be thinking about, his half-naked glitter-covered body staring up accusingly at her (admittedly a poor choice for a contact picture, considering everything). The buzzing stopped before she could answer it.

Probably a butt dial. Danny never called her after five about anything, and it was already nearly midnight. He could talk to her about class some other time. There was no way in hell she was missing Mr. Rochester declaring his undying love for Jane. She dropped the phone onto the coffee table, but the damn thing started buzzing again, jiggling all over the place until it fell into the floor.

She snatched it up. "You better have a good reason for calling me this late."

"Um... This is Al, down at  _McAllister's_. Your friend…" The man paused, shuffling around for something. "Daniel A. Castellano." He said the name slowly, like he was reading it. "Yeah, Daniel. He needs someone to pick him up."

"Why are you calling me? Call his wife."

"I don't think that's a good idea, ma'am. He's been moping in a bottle of whiskey all night, muttering something about lies and cheating harpies. My guess is… his wife won't be coming, and you're the only other number in his phone that he's called recently besides his mother."

"Oh hell. What's the address?"

* * *

 _McAllister's_  bar was rather nice, exactly the kind of place she'd expect Danny to go and nurse a broken heart. All of the fixtures were gleaming brass, polished to look like gold, and everything else was hardwood, stained dark and sanded down smooth. Mindy pushed through the heavy oak door, barely glancing at the ornate painting on the glass panes. She felt like she was walking into the set of Cheers, updated for the twenty-first century. All that was missing was some pudgy and mustachioed guy sitting at the end of the bar, waiting there to yell out her name.

"Mindy!"

Well, pudgy he was not, although he was working on the Grizzly Adams look, a shadow of scruff on his usually clean shaven face. Danny had a rather hangdog expression pulling down all of his features, and he was slumped down in one of the booths in the back of the bar, wallowing it seemed. He was sweaty, and had half the buttons down his shirt undone, an untouched cup of coffee sitting in front of him. She walked slowly over to the booth, sliding in across from him.

He looked up at her, eyes bloodshot and puffy. Her heart clenched a little bit. She'd never seen him this taken apart. He flicked the coffee mug with his index finger. "They won't give me any more whiskey."

"Doesn't look like you need any more whiskey." She sniffed, wrinkling her little nose. "You smell like a distillery."

"Someone took my wallet." He looked down, eyebrows knitting in confusion as he clumsily patted at his jeans. "And my keys? It's New York City for god's sake. I'm not driving anywhere."

He was surprisingly articulate, if a bit slurred, for someone who was still clearly three sheets to the wind. She reached forward and pushed the coffee mug closer to him. "They probably don't want you falling off a pier and getting swept out to sea."

His eyes widened at the picture she painted. If it weren't so pathetic she could almost laugh at the comical picture he made. As it was she only felt a swelling surge of sympathy. He picked up the mug, taking a slow sip as he looked over the rim. Blinking three or four times trying to pull her back into focus, he said, "You're wearing pajamas."

"Yes, well. I wasn't expecting to make a social call tonight."

He nodded, pushing the coffee mug away. "She was fucking her dark-room assistant."

She nodded, unsure of what to say. "We gotta get out of here, before Al calls the cops. Apparently you've been taking naps on the floor, loudly telling people that 'love isn't enough' whenever you happen to be conscious."

"And now she's leaving."

Clearly he wasn't in the mood to have a two-way conversation. She reached across the table and gave his hand a quick squeeze. "It's gonna be okay, Danny."

Danny dropped his head to the table, groaning. Mindy let go of his clammy hand. Getting up, she decided to let him stew in the fumes of alcohol and coffee for a moment. The bar had a few people sitting around it, one man giving her a rather lascivious up and down. "What's the hell are you looking at? You never seen a Derek Rose pajama set before? This costs more than your entire getup, scram!"

The man rolled his eyes and turned away from her. She stood on her tip-toes at the bar, waving her hand to get the bartender's attention. "Excuse me! Mister. I need to speak with Al."

"That's me." The bartender sauntered over to her, taking his sweet time. He has short spiky blonde hair, shaved into a crew cut. She didn't like the assessing look he gave her. He would have been cute if he didn't look so worse for wear. There was a scar running down the side of his lined face, more scary than ugly really.

In no mood to be intimidated, Mindy crossed her arms in front of her chest, glaring up at her adversary. "I'll be needing that short, angry, and incredibly drunk man's belongings." She pointed to Danny practically laying on the table in the booth.

"You Mindy?" He arched an eyebrow, bracing himself on the bar as he leaned forward to get a better look at her. "Hmm, not what I expected."

"What's  _that_ supposed to mean?"

He shrugged, pulling out a towel to wipe down the bar. "Nothing. I just expected some rough around the edges island chick with a bad attitude, and not some… exotic flower wearing silk pajamas."

"Exotic…" She was fuming. "That's offensive."

He shrugged again, and this time it made Mindy want to climb over the bar and punch his crooked nose. "Just give me his stuff and we'll be on our way."

Al reached under the counter, pulling out Danny's wallet and keys. she reached for it, but he snatched it back out of her reach. "He needs to settle up his tab."

"Ok, so put it on one of his cards."

He shook his head. "No can do. They've been cancelled."

Mindy sighed, digging through her crossbody bag. "Well, how much is it?"

"One hundred and thirty-five dollars."

"WHAT!"

"Your friend's got expensive taste."

She pulled out her emergency credit card and slid it across the bar, staring daggers at the hulking man. "Oh,  _suuuure_ Danny had the wherewithal to order your  _most_  expensive shots." Her nostrils flared as she watched him slide her card. This charge would be hard to explain to her mother. "Don't bartenders have to take some kind of hippocratic oath, like doctors? Do no harm… et cetera. When did you cut him off?"

"When I realized his cards weren't working." He was grinning at her, a little twinkle in his eye as he handed her card back to her. "Look, I like you. You're a smartass and you're tougher than you look. Why don't you and Danny come back down here for lunch, on the house, sometime when he's not up to his eyeballs in misery."

Mindy tucked the card back into her bag, and snatched Danny's things up off the counter. "I'm not one to turn down free food."

"I didn't think so."

"Ass."

* * *

Mindy dragged Danny out of the cab, paying the driver while he leaned on a light pole. He'd been humming something since they'd left the bar, his eyes drifting shut as he'd slumped down in the seat. Getting him in and out of the vehicle was hard enough, but she had no idea how she was going to get him up four flights of stairs.

The cab door slammed, and she turned back to him. He was slumped over, barely maintaining his balance against the light pole. She slipped underneath one arm and began to lead the way back to their building. He balked when they reached the stoop.

"No."

"What? Danny, come on. I don't have all night."

"I can't go back in there. Not after…"

She softened, sympathy filling her features. "You don't have to. You can come up to my place, even if it means dragging your ass up one extra flight of stairs."

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

He got his feet under him, concentrating on each step, leaning heavily into her. It went more smoothly than she expected, and they made it up all five flights of stairs with only a few hiccups. She'd had to stop and rest on the third floor landing, out of breath, but not for long.

By the time they reached her floor, both of them were on the verge of puking, but Mindy decided to let Danny have first dibs since he would probably die of alcohol poisoning if he didn't. The sounds coming from the bathroom were horrible, and she couldn't help but peek in. He was draped over the commode, occasionally convulsing. She tiptoed into the space, laying a hand on his back to trace comforting circles.

He leaned back to look at her. "Oh God, please go away. I don't want you to see me like this."

She smiled, grabbing a towel to pat the sweat off his forehead, threading her fingers through his damp curls briefly. "Oh please. This is like the best thing ever. We're finally even."

"Even?"

"You've seen me all snotty and puffy after pepper spraying myself, and you've seen me out of my mind on ecstasy and strawberry daiquiris. It's only fair that I get to see you puking your guts out once in awhile."

She grabbed a cup from the edge of her sink and filled it with cool water. "Here, rinse your mouth out. You'll feel better."

He did as he was told, curling up on his side on the cold tiles when he was done. "Leave me here to die."

"I will leave you here, but not to die. I need you to shower." She pinched her nose theatrically. "Sooner rather than later. You reek." In the close space of her bathroom, she couldn't get away from the smell of whiskey and pungent sweat. And now it was mixed with the malodorous stench of vomit and tobacco smoke. "Have you been smoking? That's disgusting."

He merely grunted in response. The alcohol was working its way out of his system, pushing its way through his pores. His eyes were a little less glassy than before. Levering herself up off the floor she nodded toward the shower.

"I'll go get you some clothes, please, just get in the shower."

* * *

Mindy felt tears well up in her eyes when she stepped through the door to Danny's apartment. She'd known it wouldn't be a pretty sight, but she hadn't imagined he'd have been so destructive with his own things. There was so much anger in front of her, and she wasn't entirely sure what the source of it was. Sure, presumably Christina had broken his heart, but this reaction seemed disproportionate.

She picked through the living room, nudging a lamp with her toe. The pictures on the wall were shattered, cracks spider-webbing out from where flying objects had slammed into them. She approached his bedroom door cautiously, afraid of what might lay behind it.

Surprisingly the bedroom seemed untouched, blankets tossed to the shiny hardwood floor, a few dirty garments lying here and there, but nothing really out of the ordinary. She went straight to his closet, pulling out a few shirts and a pair of pants, then going to his drawers. It felt strange picking through his underclothes. He still wore boxers it seemed, although she saw an errant pair of briefs and was tempted to grab them just to get him back for busting in on her night. She found a soft t-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and added it to the pile she was making on the dresser.

She made a face at the condom wrapper on the nightstand, sweeping it into a wastebasket before she could think about it much more.

It was quiet when she got back to her place, sweeping instrumentals coming from her TV the only sound. She frowned as she watched the credits scroll up the screen. Danny had made her miss the entire movie. She snatched her mug off the end table and took a swig of the lukewarm wine as she scrolled through the DVR looking for something else to watch.

She had just started another version of Jane Eyre when Danny crept quietly into the living room, the only thing covering him a giant towel with a pug in a Santa hat printed on it, the words  _Bah-Hum-Pug_  embroidered across the front. Morgan would buy anything with a dog on it.

"Uh, Mindy…."

She whirled around, mouth dropping open around the straw. God it had been a while since she'd seen him like this, all glistening abs and spiky eyelashes. For a moment she was speechless. "Um… yeah... "

He waited for her to continue, shuffling further out into the living room. "Mindy? Hello?" He gestured to himself, a completely unnecessary motion in light of the fact that her eyes had been roving all over his body since he'd said her name.

She cleared her throat, grabbing at the pile of clothes beside her and tossing them at him. "Dude, put some clothes on. I'm not paying you like those desperate old broads."

He smirked halfheartedly, scooping up the garments. "Like you could afford it."

In retrospect it probably wasn't the best idea to have Danny sit through Jane Eyre with her, the William Hurt one this time. Although, a crazy "ex" wife did go down in a painful blaze. Maybe it would be cathartic. She peeked at him to see how he was reacting.

He caught her checking, and was too weak to fight off the look of concern she shot him. "It's not fair."

Mindy kept her mouth shut, waiting for him to continue. His eyes drifted shut, a long sigh escaping his parted lips. "She's not the only one who was tempted, but I controlled myself."

Mindy's eyebrows shot up. She wasn't sure if it was the residual effects of alcohol making him so uninhibited, but she wasn't about to risk him shutting down by opening her mouth. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until his eyes snapped open, and it whooshed out of her in a quiet gasp.

He was staring at her intensely, eyes ominous pools of black. Involuntarily, she swallowed. "You did?"

"All this time… I could have done whatever the fuck I wanted."

The air crackled between them, and Danny reached for her, one hand palming her cheek before it slipped through her hair to cradle her head. She leaned into him, letting out a little mewling noise when he finally kissed her. He was minty, thank god. She smiled against him. He must have used her toothbrush. The errant thought flew away into the night before it even had time to settle in her brain. All she could think about was how his hands clutched at her, holding on desperately… like she was a life raft in the ocean.

Her eyes popped open, and she tore herself away from him. "No, no, no… Danny. I can't…" She was pleading with him. She didn't have it in her to be a one night stand because he was miserable and wanted revenge. Or worse, she couldn't start some sort of rebound relationship only to be left sitting on the sidelines when he realized, for a second time, that he didn't want to be with her. "You're, uh… drunk, and in pain. This is a bad idea."

As if to prove her point, he dropped back against the couch cushions like a petulant child, cheeks red with embarrassment. "Shit, Mindy… I'm sorry."

She shook her head, waving away his apology. Her voice was thick in spite of her feigned nonchalance. "Don't worry about it."

They sat silently, watching the rest of the movie, each one awkwardly clutching a different blanket, a clear dividing line between them. Mr. Rochester moved on the screen gracefully, permanent dark scowl on his face deepening as he declared his love for little pathetic Jane… Mindy cut her eyes back across at Danny, fearful of what she might see.

It didn't matter what they were watching. He was snoring peacefully beside her, slumped down in the cushions, clutching the fleece throw to his chin. She couldn't believe how changeable he was. An hour ago she was beset with dry-mouthed lust staring at his half naked body, and now all she could think about was how much like a sad little boy he looked. The corners of his mouth were turned down in sleep, a fringe of coal black hair dropped down across his forehead. She couldn't resist the urge to reach forward and brush the strands away.

The timing was so fucked up. She wanted him, still. He was hurt and broken and probably still technically drunk, and she wanted him more than ever. Only now she wanted to hug him close and tell him what a bitch she thought Christina was. She wanted to kiss the corners of his frown and feel it turn into a weak smile. She could still taste him….

She turned back to the screen, watching Jane flee from Thornfield Hall and her brooding love. That was probably the best idea honestly. Mindy picked up the remote and flicked off the television, extricating herself from the engulfing cushions of the couch. Danny slumped over, snuggling into one of her pillows. She couldn't stop herself from pulling the throw up over him and dropping a gentle kiss on his forehead.


End file.
